


Ship of the Line: Essence of the Ghost

by Sorentia



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Star Trek, Stargate SG-1
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-06-02 13:10:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 45,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6567691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sorentia/pseuds/Sorentia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Buffy has discovered that come as you arn't can be liberating.  So liberating that she finds herself freed of the destiny of the Slayer.  Yet no gift comes with out a price.  Is the price she has now inadvertantly paid worth her new found freedom or only another way for life to leash her against her will?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a plot bunny that started tormenting me as I looked through some of the Ship of the Line stories I've seen. It first came to me a few months ago but I didn't really feel like writing it then. With so many SotL stories it didn't seem like it was needed. However while waiting for the next chapter of Lost and Discovered to be beta'd I got bored and started to write this.
> 
> I in no way own the rights to Buffy the Vampire Slayer (That's Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy), Star Trek (made by Gene Roddenberry and the Prime=verse is owned by CBS), or Stargate SG-1 (I think Syfy has rights to that, but I'm not sure.)
> 
> This does not adhear to the SotL challenge rules so I cannot say it is strictly a SotL response. However, I was always a bit disappointed that there were so few stories in this vein that kept Buffy as the head of the Scoobies and instead thrust Xander into that position. So here is my take on Ship of the Line, Captain Buffy Edition.
> 
> Lost and Discovered is still my main forcus so don't expect this to update to rapidly. I'll work on it inbetween chapters of L&D being Beta'd as my muse see's fit. I will get it completed eventually though so no fears.

Consciousness came back slowly in fits and starts.  Her mind started to waking before anything else, muddled and confused as it tried to make sense of what felt like the entirety of the world racing by behind her eyes.  It took her several minutes, or seconds she was not sure, before the random thoughts and stray emotions settled down into a dull roar that allowed her to think.  She couldn't feel her body and that started to terrify her before she managed to get herself under control again.  
  
'Come on Buffy, you are awake and thinking, so you know you ain't dead.  Your legs and arms are probably asleep.  That means it's going to hurt like hell when you stand up,' she told herself firmly.  
  
Gathering her courage together she opened her eyes and was blinded.  
  
It was seconds, or maybe nanoseconds, later that she realized she wasn't at home in bed.  It took half that amount of time to realize she wasn't even on earth as she gazed at the view displayed before her on the view screen.  Starlight danced against the backdrop of the deepest black she had ever seen.  More importantly, the large blue orb that hung in the middle of the viewport insisted she was not on earth.  
  
'I'm in space.'  Buffy blinked several times as she tried to determine just what had happened to her.  'How did I get in space?'  
  
The question was completely silent so she expected no reply.  When suddenly she had the answer she had to blink again.  She had been transferred back to the ship after her portable hologram emitter had been damaged on the surface.  
  
Buffy scrunched her nose up as she thought over the answer.  She was on a ship, the NCC-8347-B Ghost Thorn.  That made sense since she was in space and as far as she knew you needed a space ship to be in space the last she had checked.  A need to use a P.H.E. Would mean she was a hologram which made no since.  She knew she was human so why would she need a P.H.E.?  Deciding the answer made no sense Buffy moved on to the next question on her list.  
  
'What happened?'  
  
Buffy again felt the answer slip into her mind with ease.  She knew that something had occurred in Sunnydale.  Giles had informed her that a mage had cast a spell turning everyone into their costumes, including herself, Xander, and Willow.  Buffy remembered scoffing at the idea of magic and even insulting Giles for suggesting such an outdated theological belief system.  Never the less he had been insistent and had gone to end the spell.  
  
'Well I'm me again, so the spell had to have ended,' she thought for a moment before turning and sitting in the chair that seemed to be in the middle of the room she found herself in.  
  
She sat tapping her fingers on the arm of the chair as she let herself start to think.  She now had the what, how, why and where of her situation covered pretty well.  Xander had insisted they dress up as Star Trek characters with their own personal twist.  They had collected their kids, set off trick or treating, and then the mages spell hit and all hell broke loose.  
  
This took less time than it does for a snowflake to melt in the middle of Death Valley.  Immediately on the heels of the thought a few realizations struck her.  
  
'It was all Xander's fault,' was the first of her ideas.  He had chosen the costumes and then insisted on the three of them making up their own characters.  Buffy had been a bit lost as she had never watched Star Trek but Willow and Xander had both been quick to assist with her character.  She was Captain Eliza  Summers of the NCC-8347-B Ghost Thorn.  She was technically an Admiral but due to her unique circumstances, she acted under the rank of Captain.  Eliza Summers had been an Emergency Command Hologram that had developed sentience during an extended mission.  After a series of incidents involving the first Ghost Thorn had reduced it's crew to skeleton levels she had been forced to take Command of the vessel and had operated for nearly an entire year behind enemy lines before their mission had been completed and they returned to Earth.  
  
Buffy paused as she realized she could remember the mission.  It had been a deep insertion behind Cardassian borders.  There had been rumors of attempts to recreate Genesis.  Knowing first hand what a threat the terraforming science posed the Federation was quick to ensure that such a weapon never fell into the hands of the Cardassians or any of the Federations enemies.  They had managed to locate the facility where it was being worked on, erase all data on the subject, captured or killed the scientists working on reproducing the technology, and managed to retrieve the prototype which had been summarily dropped into a black hole.  
  
More memories started to dance their way through Buffy's mind.  She remembered returning to earth, working with Commander Data and successfully passing a series of inquiries concerning her sentience.  Once that had been established Commander Data had fought to have Eliza Summers transferred to the new Ghost Thorn that was being developed.  Two years later she had left space dock as a commander.  A year after that she had been promoted to Captain after her Captain died during a particularly nasty fight with three Klingon Birds of Prey.  And four years after that as the third Ghost Thorn had been commissioned as the NCC-8347-A was retired, she was given the official rank of Admiral though she operated under the rank of Captain.    
  
The fact that her computer systems required such a significant amount of space meant that if she were to be the usual sort of Admiral that stayed back in Star Fleet Headquarters she would never see space again and she had refused that.  So in order to get the most potential use out of her, Star Fleet used her as a roaming Admiral.  Most of her missions were for her ship and only her ship.  Occasionally there were larger battles to be fought that required more than one ship.  That was when being an Admiral came in handy.  
  
As all those memories flowed through Buffy's mind there were the other... things.  They weren't memories, not exactly.  She tilted her head as she tried to figure out what it was she was feeling just at the edge of her senses.  It wasn't like her spidey sense that helped her, occasionally, to sense vampires and demons.  It was more like seeing something out of the corner of her eye.  
  
'Oh.  My.  God,' Buffy stammered to herself.  'I'm the freaking ship!'


	2. Chapter 2

    Buffy looked out at the infinity of space and gasped.  
  
    Later she would swear the gasp was caused by the realization of how vast the cosmos was in that instant.  Other times it was the revelation that she occupied no space and a multitude of spaces now that her existence was comprised of hard light holographic projections and digital information that swarmed through the memory banks that held her consciousness.  The truth was much more simplistic than either of those and would eventually cause Buffy endless embarrassment.  
  
    “I never have to buy shoes again,” she exclaimed to no one in particular.  
  
    After a few minutes of looking through the various fashion choices ('Hey there are a lot in here,' she shouted in victory towards an unseen third party) that had been programmed into her holographic array she decided to stay with the uniform she was already wearing.  It was comfortable, though she didn't know if that mattered anymore being made of solid light, and fit where she was.  
  
    Pushing past what she knew where frivolous issues, Buffy began pacing the bridge of the ship.  She knew she was only a hairs-breath from panic and needed to get a handle on the situation as quickly as possible.  She ran her thoughts back over her time as Eliza back on Earth trying to figure out if anyone knew where she was.  The last thing she could remember was Giles, Xander, Willow, and herself heading to Ethan's store to end the spell that had ensnared them.  There was a sound from behind her then she was flying.  
  
    After that there was nothing.  No sound.  No light.  No feeling.  Just nothing.  
  
    'Must have been when my P.H.E. was damaged,' she realized.  
  
    “Okay, contacting Giles, that would be of the good,” she said aloud though she had no audience to hear her ramble.  “A Slayer should report to her Watcher, yes indeed.  Right... report to my Watcher...,” Buffy stopped then flopped down in what she realized was the captain's chair.  “How the hell am I supposed to contact someone on Earth from up here,” she suddenly screamed out.  
  
    Buffy sat racking her mind.  She knew she had not given Giles a communicator badge.  The technology was far advanced beyond what the earth below her had and the Prime Directive had kept her from doing so.  Sure it wasn't anything more than an extremely advanced cell phone in the end, but too much of its base technology could theoretically contaminate a society still in it's earliest stages of development.  
  
    She sat up straight suddenly as her mind grasped onto that thought.  Cell phones.  They were not something that was extremely common yet, it would be a few more years before their use would become commonplace, but their very presence meant that Earth had wireless communication.  Wireless communications could be hacked.  
  
    Buffy started to smile as information held in her computer systems started to flow through her.  The smile turned into a feral grin as she realized that what she wanted to do was not just possible, but simple.  
  
    A plan in place she leaned back in her chair.  Less than half a second later she could hear the dulcet tones of a phone ringing.  
  
BTVS: Ship of the Line  
  
    Giles was pacing the library as Jenny Calander watched on feeling helpless.  He had been in a near frantic state all evening and it had only grown worse as the sun had risen above Sunnydale.  She herself had barely noticed the strange occurrence the night before.  The magic that had washed over Sunnydale she had felt, but it had not touched her and safely ensconced in her apartment she never realized how desperate things had become outside.  
  
    Giles had been concerned when Buffy had vanished from sight.  Willow and Xander, or at least the Starfleet Officer variants of themselves, had insisted their Captain would be safe.  It had only been the knowledge that the longer the spell drug on the more innocents that were being put in danger that had allowed him to carry on with his mission.  Then in the last seconds as he moved to destroy the bust of Janus that had acted as the focus for Ethan's insane idea of a practical joke he watched both children become surrounded by light and vanish from sight.  
  
    In the moments that followed Giles had found himself lost in grief.  With the spell ended whatever had occurred to take away all three of the children was likely irreversible.  He would have demanded Ethan fix what he had caused but while he had felt himself swallowed by depression the chaos mage had fled.  
  
    He had contacted Jenny immediately demanding she meet him at the library.  Since she had arrived and heard the story of what had occurred through the night the two of them had been bent over books looking for an answer.  They had spared no source of information in their quest to recover the three missing children.  Books on spells where torn through with abandon.  Tomes on prophecy read with alacrity.  Even the oldest and most ancient of books that spoke of rituals so black that no one would consider them for fear of the repercussions were examined.  
  
    Giles was beginning to lose hope.  
  
    When the phone in his office began to ring neither of them paid it any attention.  Thankfully it silenced itself after five rings.  When it began again Giles glanced up only to glare hatefully at the thing until again it fell silent after five rings.  The third time it began he felt his head fall forward against the table.  The sounds of Jenny getting up, the legs of her chair scratching across the floor as she rose.  
  
    “Sunnydale High School Library,” Jenny answered as calmly as she could.  A few moments of silence followed where Giles assumed the caller was asking for him were followed by Jenny's reply of, “I'm sorry, but Mr. Giles is currently unavailable.  Can I take a message?”  
  
    The response was loud.  Even though he couldn't understand what was being said he could hear it from across the library.  Giles looked up to see Jenny holding the phone out from her and staring at it as if it meant to bite her.  When the angry voice died down he watched her put the phone back to her ear and tell the caller, “Yes, I... umm... one moment please.”  
  
    Jenny turned to him holding the phone in front of her.  Giles sighed and shook his head trying to get her to understand his reluctance to speak to what was likely an irate parent.  Jenny simply tapped her foot and held the phone out more forcefully to him as she raised an eyebrow.  
  
    “You really need to take this,” she said when he didn't immediately get up.  
  
    Sighing, Giles stood and walked over to her and took the phone from her hand and placed it to his ear.  Trying to remain as calm as he could he asked, “Mr. Giles here, how may I be of service?”  
  
    “You can start by figuring out how in the hell Ethan's spell made me Buffy the Space Ghost,” Buffy's voice answered back sweetly.  
  
  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

    Giles stood stock still holding the phone.  Jenny could see the relief flooding his face after hearing his Slayer's voice.  His eyes had gone watery, his glasses in hand as he limply held the phone to his ear.  He hadn't even flinched when Buffy had yelled at him.  
  
    “Buffy, where are you,” he finally asked.  “I've been worried to death.  Are Xander and Willow with you?”  
  
    The voice on the other end of the line had gotten quieter.  Jenny couldn't hear Buffy screaming like she had when she had answered the phone.  The gypsy hoped that was a good sign then reconsidered that thought.  She had seen Buffy's anger in the past.  When she was screaming for blood Jenny had come to realize it was out of frustration, not true anger.  When the young woman got quiet then it was time to be concerned.  
  
    Giles was talking to Buffy now, his own voice low and tense.  Jenny could see the lines in his face flex and twist as he spoke quickly and quietly, “What do you mean a ghost?  That makes no sense if you...  No that's quite impossible, Buffy.  I don't think you...”  
  
    The light that suddenly began to form around Giles was sudden.  Jenny didn't realize it had even appeared until the phone Giles had been holding fell to the ground.  Blinking, she looked around for a moment as her brain tried to process what had happened.  Magic was the only answer she came up with.  Nothing else made sense.  Nothing else could simply make a man vanish into thin air.  
  


(***)

    “Understand what you are...”

    Giles' voice trailed off as he found himself standing on the bridge of the Ghost Thorn.  Buffy sat in the captains chair, her legs casually crossed at the knees as she inspected her nails.  Her watcher turned around taking in his surroundings, body tensed for an attack he clearly expected to come. It wasn't until his eyes landed on the central view screen where the vast sphere known as Earth hung silently in space.

    “So what don't I understand, Watcher-mine,” Buffy casually asked with a smirk.  “Was that the part where I can't be a hologram?  The part that I don't know where I am?  Or how about the part that the Holloween spell went a little kooky?”

    “I... um... that is... uh... how... that's Earth,” Giles finally stammered out.

    Buffy shook her head with a smile and rose from her seat.  “Yes that is Earth, this is a space ship, we are both on it, and I am a freaking hologram,” she said, her voice slowly rising in pitch and volume.  “So instead of yelling at me, doubting me, and questioning my sanity how about we figure out what in the heck is going on?”

    Giles turned to look at his Slayer with a frown. “I'm sure this quite nicely puts me in my place in regards to doubting you, Buffy.  We are obviously not in Sunnydale.  I still do not understand why you believe yourself to be an illusion," he said as he stepped toward her.  Tentatively he reached out and clasped her shoulder.  Nodding he gave it a gentle squeeze before continuing, “After all, glamors and illusionary magics can not create physical substance and I can quite obviously touch you.”

    Buffy rolled her eyes.  She had never before thought her mentor could be so willingly obtuse and blind about a situation.  That thought gave Buffy a momentary pause as she considered the fact she knew words like obtuse now.  A shake of her head later she looked Giles up and down and sighed, “It's not magic Giles.  Not anymore at least.  It's technology.  Force field emitters to give physical form to visual holograms.  As for how I know what I am... well... Computer, how many life forms are on this ship,” her voice called out as she watched her Watcher.

    “There are two life forms,” came the computer's answer.

    Giles raised an eyebrow giving Buffy his best 'I told you so' look.  She simply smiled as she asked her second question, “Computer, of those two life forms, how many are biological in nature?”

    “One of the life forms is biological in nature,” the digitized voice answered back.

    “Computer, what is the nature of the second life form that is not biological in nature,” Buffy asked as she continued to watch Giles reaction slowly build on his face.

    “The second life form is a non-organic naturally evolved computer intelligence.”

    Giles stumbled slightly as he heard the report from the ships computer.  He absentmindedly crossed the bridge, taking a seat at the con station without thinking about it.  Buffy continued to watch him, her smile not faltering as she continued questioning the computer, “Computer, what is the identity of the computer intelligence?”

    “Eliza 'Buffy' Anne Summers, Admiral, Acting Captain of the USS Ghost Thorn.”

    Buffy tilted her head slightly as she watched Giles a moment longer.  He looked pale, the shock was plainly written on his face.  She hadn't wanted to upset him, but his continued doubt to her situation was not going to help them figure out what to do about it.  She hoped it would be like a band-aid, rip it off quickly and cause a sharp but short-lived pain.  If it wasn't, if this caused longer lasting damage, she'd not forgive herself.

    “Giles, I need you to calm down.  Process but get it together,” she started quietly.  “I don't know exactly what's going on.  I don't know why this has happened.  I'm in control of the most advanced force recon vessel the Federation ever constructed.  I might as well be the ship.  That's how completely in control of it I am.”

    Giles' eyes met those of his Slayer's.  He knew that they weren't real, just projections by some infernal machine.  The same infernal machine that she had somehow been absorbed by due to Rayne and his blasted idea of a prank.  What he saw though was real.  Tears were forming in those glistening green eyes.  Eyes that looked at him with complete and utter trust.  She had absolute faith that he would figure out what had happened and if not fix it at least help her learn to live with it.

    “Most of all, I'm scared,” Buffy finished in the voice of terrified little girls everywhere the world over.

     Giles knew in that instant he would not abandon her.

(***)

    “General Hammond,” a man dressed in the day to day uniform of the Air Force said as he entered the office of his commanding officer.  “We've just confirmed an unknown vessel is in Earth Orbit.”


	4. Chapter 4

    General Hammond had decided it was going to be one of those days.  SG-1 had forcibly accessed the Stargate to go on an unauthorized mission.  Senator Kinsey was calling for blood for his lead team disobeying a direct order to shut down all gate operations.  Then to top it all off Dr. Jackson's warnings of an invasion were starting to look more like reality than a flight of fancy that many wanted it to be.  
  
    Now he sat in the conference room in the chair he had occupied many times before.  In the past, he would have been joined at the table by the members of the various SG teams under his command.  Their discussions, briefings, and planning sessions more often than not were about less dire circumstances than those he found himself in now.  Even those times that the discussion had involved a serious and immediate threat to the SGC or even Earth in its entirety had paled compared to the possibilities they now faced.  
  
    George Hammond, General, USAF, born and raised in the great state of Texas, wanted nothing more than to pound his head on the table, all things considered.  
  
    Instead of one of his SG teams he was sharing the briefing room with Col. Maybourne, Lt. Col. Fisher, an Lt. that he couldn't be bothered to remember the name of, and Senators Kinsey.  So far all they seemed to want to do was scream at one another as far as he could tell.  The arguments had started almost immediately after the Senators and Lt. Col. Fisher had arrived and had only become more vulgar and disgraceful.  
  
    Hammond was surprised however at how adamant Col. Maybourne was being that the matter of the unidentified vessel above Earth was a matter for the SGC to deal with.  When Maybourne had first arrived he fully expected him to try and take over any operation concerning the vessel.  The fact that he had instead backed General Hammond, even against his political supporter Kinsey, had shocked the aging General and left him more than a little suspicious of Maybourne's motives.  
  
    Having listened to enough bickering for one lifetime thus far Hammond decided it was time to pull rank and slammed his hands down onto the table.  The room fell abruptly silent as he looked back and forth between those at the table holding each of their eyes for a moment before moving on to the next person.  
  
    “That is enough.  We are adults, not school children bickering over a toy.  We have an unknown vessel in orbit above Earth.  Stargate Command holds authority over extra-terrestrial exploration, colonization, and defense.  This means, Senator Kinsey, that I hold authority over this situation until the President orders otherwise.  Your attempts to subvert the chain of command repeatedly are not helping us solve the problem.  
  
    Kinsey started to stand, opening his mouth to argue.  Hammond slammed a fist back onto the table to cut him off once more, “I don't give a damn what you are going to say.  Get off my base before I have you arrested for something.”  
  
    Kinsey gave one last glare to the General before gathering his briefcase and storming out.  The General let a sigh escape as he watched one irritation finally leave.  Turning to face Lt. Col Fisher he eyed the man carefully.  Hammond knew the younger man was primarily a political officer, something the Air Force was supposed to discourage.  Even though anyone in the upper echelons of power knew you had to play the political game to some degree they were supposed to avoid giving their support to specific people.  The Lt. Col. had been careful to not cross any lines that a serving officer should not cross, but it had been a close thing.  
  
    “Lt. Col. Fisher,” Hammond began in a soft voice though his eyes were as hard as steel, “seeing as how you are currently assigned to the NID the same as Col. Maybourne I see little sense in your staying unless the Col. desires you to do so.”  
  
    Fisher blanched and turned to Maybourne as he fought to control a slowly building frustration, “Sir, as NID Agents it's our duty to take over this operation.  The SGC has proven it is unreliable and willing to go against direct orders!”  
  
    Maybourne leaned back in his seat, his eyes never leaving the other man's, “You mean like several operations I could name involving a certain at the time Major,” he said with a slight pause before finishing, “Fisher?”  
  
    Fishers face started to turn red as Maybourne shook his head and waved to the door, “You can see yourself out Fisher.  We'll speak when I arrive back at the Pentagon about your attempted end run around.”  
  
    Lt. Col. Fisher rose, giving a perfunctory salute to the two senior officers before storming out followed by his aide.  General Hammond turned to Maybourne with a look of shock clearly on his face for an instant before he could manage to bury it.  It wasn't quick enough though and Maybourne spotted it before it could fade and returned it with a small smile.  
  
    “Don't be so shocked, General.  I know we don't always see eye to eye, but I do believe in the SGC and its purpose,” Maybourne said calmly.  
  
    “And just what has caused this sudden faith in us?  You didn't seem so sure we could succeed without your interference with the Tollon,” the General all but accused.  
  
    Maybourne nodded slowly never losing his small smile, “Orders.  Besides that, you know what it was about.  Technology, they had it, we need it.  This unknown vessel is proof enough of that.  If Dr. Jackson's warning of an impending invasion is correct, we need it now more than anything.”  
  
    “Then why not side with the NID and try to force us to relinquish command of the situation,” Hammond asked, his voice laced with suspicion.  
  
    “Simple, we can't get usable technology from the wreckage,” Maybourne answered.  Seeing confusion begin to settle on the Generals face he continued, “Those idiots in Washington are panicking.  Despite that vessel not having a profile like any known Goa'uld vessel, they want to shoot first, ask questions never.”  
  
    General Hammond's face visibly paled at the thought.  His mind raced trying to come up with what the US Government had that they thought could damage a Goa'uld ship.  As he connected the dots he sucked in a breath before fixing his eyes on Maybournes, “They wanted to launch nuclear weapons at it.”  
  
    Maybourne nodded, “Yes, and not just any nuclear weapons.  Two prototype Goa'uld Busters.  Naquadah enhanced ICBM's with a detonation package in the 1000 megaton range.”  
  
    “That would practically be suicide,” Hammond shouted.  “That vessel is in low orbit.  The EMP generated by the detonations alone would risk blacking out the entire continent.  That's without taking into account potential effects of nuclear fallout.”  
  
    “Exactly,” Maybourne responded, “I'm all for aggressive acquisition of technology to preserve the safety of our nation and planet.  I'm not quite crazy enough to blow ourselves up.”  
  
    Hammond nodded as he rose from the table and gathered his papers from the meeting, “Then let's get to work making sure the President has no cause to launch those missiles.  Get to work with our people on options to make contact with the vessel.  Anything that will allow us to communicate with them.  Once that is underway you and I will get together with SG teams 3, 5, and 8 to plan possible boarding operations against the vessel if we cannot make contact.”  
  
    Maybourne whispered quietly as he watched the General return to his office, “Here's hoping we don't need it.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies in advance. This chapter and the next will be dealing with exactly how the Scoobies arrive on board the Ghost Thorn as well as why the Ghost Thorn is even in existence due to the Holloween spell. Not all mysteries will be solved right away, in fact more questions may pop up than are answered. Either way, these two chapters are necessary to set up the rest of the story and establish the crew of the Ghost Thorn. So I apologize if things are a little slow still. We'll get to the more exciting things soon enough, I promise.

    It had taken a little over an hour for Buffy and Giles to rehash the events of the previous night.  Nearly ten minutes of that had been Buffy apologizing to Giles for what her alter ego had said to him regarding the existence of magic.  The look of mortification as Buffy had realized just how strongly her other self reacted to the suggestion of magic was priceless and had brought an unashamed smile to Giles' lips.  
  
    They needed humor right now.  It was the only thing keeping the two of them from pulling their hair out.  Neither had found any indication of what had occurred to the two missing Scoobies after they vanished just prior to Giles breaking the bust of Janus.  Buffy herself couldn't remember what had happened after she had vanished.  
  
    “Buffy, you said earlier that you are tied into the control of this vessel,” Giles said slowly, his tone thoughtful as he considered the myriad of possibilities.  “I'm assuming that includes the teleportation device you used the bring me here?”  
  
    “The transporter, and yes, I am able to control it, Giles.  And the 'vessel' is the Ghost Thorn,” Buffy answered with only minor irritation in her voice.  
  
    Giles nearly chuckled at Buffy's correction of the terms he used.  He had spent the last year and change trying to correct her mutilation of the English language to no avail.  Now he found himself on the other side as she corrected him.  “Yes, well,” he said with a cough trying to cover the near laugh that wanted to escape, “when Willow and Xander vanished they were surrounded by light that looked identical to what surrounded me before you brought me aboard.”  
  
    Buffy scrunched up her nose as she thought.  It brought a smile to Giles as he imagined the thoughts going through his Slayers mind.  She had been changed by Ethan's thoughtless prank, perhaps for good, but he had grown relieved each time some small quirk that was purely Buffy slipped out.  She was still the same person as before, even if her circumstances had changed.  
  
    “Oh god,” Buffy suddenly shouted as she rose to her feet.  “Oh no, no, no.  This is not good.  I'm an idiot.  Why didn't I realize it before?  I can fix it.  I have to fix it.  Crap, crap, crap, what was other me thinking.”  
  
    Buffy started pacing back and forth leaving Giles to look on in confusion.  He cleared his throat after a few minutes and when she looked up to him his voice was concerned, “What happened, Buffy?  Did you remember something?”  
  
    She nodded then shook her head as she kept pacing.  “Remembered isn't exactly right.  There are logs.  Everything I do, every command I give directly to the Ghost Thorn's systems are logged.  At some point, right when Willow and Xander vanished I'm guessing, I issued a priority evacuation order for all Starfleet personnel on the surface to avoid further breaking of the Prime Directive.”  
  
    “All personnel,” Giles asked with some concern before waving it off with one hand, “We'll come back to that.  If you teleported...”  
  
    “Transported,” Buffy cut in without preamble.  
  
    Giles frowned slightly before nodding, “As you say, transported people aboard, were are they?”  
  
    “That's just it Giles, it looks like you breaking the spell caused a hiccup or something.”  
  
    Giles watched Buffy's face closely.  She was nervous and a bit afraid again.  Giles pushed down his own growing concern and tried to comfort her as best as he could with logic, “Buffy, if you transported them, then would they not be here?”  
  
    Buffy sighed and finally sat back in the Captains chair.  Her hands came up to rub her face repeatedly before letting them drop into her lap.  “That's just it Giles, the hiccup... it stopped the computer from completing the transport.”  
  
    Still not understanding Giles furrowed his brow, “Well then just where did it leave them?”  
  
    Buffy sighed as she stood up and started to head one of the sets of doors Giles had noticed.  As she neared them they opened to reveal what appeared to be an elevator.  Buffy stepped in and turned around to look at him and raised an eyebrow.  Getting the hint he stood and joined her.  
  
    Once the doors slid closed Buffy spoke allowed, “Transporter room one.”  Giles had expected to feel movement, but despite the sight of lights flashing by through semi-transparent slots he felt nothing.  
  
    “Transporters work in stages, Giles.  First, you are scanned and dematerialized at a quantum level.  Your pattern is then put into the pattern buffer.  Finally, the transporter rematerializes you at your target location.”  
  
    Giles shivered slightly as the implications of the technology hit home.  He had been disintegrated when Buffy had brought him on board.  Every single atom of his existence was screaming how dangerous that could be.  The thought of people using such a device with casual abandon terrified the technophobe in him to no end.  
  
    “You said the transport was interrupted, does this mean they are...,” Gile stopped not sure how or even if he should continue his thought.  
  
    “No, they didn't die.  Yet.  If I don't fix it quick, though,” Buffy trailed off as the doors opened once more and she stepped out.  
  
    Giles followed her through the corridor.  He was about to ask her where they were going when she turned and passed through another set of the sliding doors.  Before him was what he assumed was the transporter device that Buffy had used to transport him aboard.  
  
    Buffy stepped up to the control panel and started examining it.  Periodically she would tap a finger here or there and Giles could see the display move and change.  The information it was giving was foreign to him.  He had no way of making heads or tails of what it was telling his Slayer and he was left feeling rather useless.  
  
    “Thank you, Commander Rosenburg,” Buffy finally said quietly.  
  
    She moved quickly over to one of the walls and removed a panel from it.  Beneath it, Giles could see all sorts of technological components that he was mystified by.  He knew he had no hope of understanding exactly what any of it was even without his usual deep-seated dislike of many modern bits of tech.  The speed that Buffy started working on the alien looking electronics though showed how familiar she was with it.  That in itself would have been a wake up call if he hadn't seen the expanse of space while on the ships bridge with Buffy.  It still felt strange to see the blonde who hid her intelligence so often under a ditzy facade.  It took him a few moments to reconcile it with what he knew about the situation.  
  
    “What are you doing, Buffy,” Giles finally brought himself to ask.  
  
    Buffy finished one set of adjustments and moving to another looked up, “I need to make some adjustments.  The molecular imaging scanners are not playing nice with one another.  They're split down the middle as to which pattern is the right one.  Normally this would just result in a failed transport.  I think it's because the spell ended when it did that it didn't.  I could trash one pattern group or the other, but we wouldn't know who would come out.  We could get Xander and Willow back just like normal, or we could have their Starfleet alter egos.  I'm not willing to take that risk,” she said before turning back to the panel and continuing her adjustments.  
  
    “Then what are you going to do if you cannot tell who is who,” Giles asked.  
  
    “Merge them,” she said matter of factly.  “It's the only way to be sure our Willow and Xander, not to mention everyone else that got stuck in mid-transport,” Buffy said with a snort.  “God, just think, if you had waited even two seconds to bust that bust,” again Buffy snorted in amusement at her own joke, “I wouldn't be panicking right now.  It's all good, though.”  
  
    Giles frowned slightly at the announcement of Buffy's plan.  “Merge them,” he asked, careful of the tone of his voice though he couldn't keep all of his disapproval out it.  “Buffy is that really safe, or necessary?”  
  
    The cold look she shot Giles for just a fraction of a second sent a chill up his spine like the memories of being transported now did.  He thought for a moment she was about to give him a verbal, if not physical, thrashing that would leave him begging for forgiveness.  He had a distinct impression that he now knew what vampires felt like when they faced Buffy in combat.  
  
    “Yes, I'm sure it's necessary.  As for safe, it's the best thing I can do and is based on equations my first officer was working on.  If I don't do this I have to pick, one or the other.  Even if I guess right and we get our Willow and Xander back that might not hold true for everyone else.  Either way, it would be the same as murder.”  
  
    Giles felt his jaw drop open as he heard her pronouncement.  It took him some time to get the use of his voice back before he could stammer out, “Murder, how would it be murder to restore these individuals to who they are.”  
  
    That cold glare met Giles once more.  This time, she didn't move her eyes from him as her fingers stilled their delicate work.  “Simple, Giles.  Those are people in there.  For every individual, every person I beamed up there are two distinct patterns.  That means there are two distinct people.  My guess, and it is only a guess, is your ending of the spell caused this and the twin patterns are both the original unaffected people and the alter egos which you met last night.  The choices I have are finish transport for one set or the other and letting the second set be lost, effectively killing someone.  Or I save everyone by merging them.”  
  
    “And just what do you think this merging will do, Buffy.  They won't be themselves anymore.  They will be entirely different people.  You'll be condemning them to a life not their own,” Giles said as he pleaded with her.  
  
    “Is that what you think of me,” Buffy's said in a quiet voice,  “that I'm condemned?  That I'm not the same person?"  She turned back to her work as her voice grew stronger and more certain of her course, "Maybe I'm not.  I've got all the memories of Eliza.  I'm now a hologram to boot.  But yea know, maybe this is a chance for me.  A chance for all of us, to get out of the hell our lives were becoming.  You're right, they won't be the same, they will be changed by this.  But everything that matters, everything that makes them who they are, that won't change.  They will still be my Willow and Xander.”  
  
    Giles could only nod in acknowledgment.  He wanted to stop this but he knew that doing so would cost Buffy two friends.  She would either lose the friends who had stood by her side night after night in her fight against the vampires, or she would lose the friends the spell-forged memories told her were waiting to be saved by her.  He couldn't ask that of her.  He wouldn't ask that of her.  
  
    “If I might ask then, Buffy, why such a frantic pace.  You seem to be rushing what I assume is a rather delicate bit of work.”  
  
    Buffy nodded without looking away from her work, “The pattern buffers are only designed to hold a pattern in stasis for a few minutes.  After that, the pattern starts to deteriorate until it can no longer be used to finish the transport.”  
  
    Giles was aghast.  His instinctive dread of the device ratcheted up several notches as Buffy continued to adjust, manipulate, or outright disconnect several systems behind the panel.  
  
    “Several years ago,” Buffy continued as she moved to another panel and opened it, “the Enterprise-D, under the command of Jean-Luc Picard discovered a crashed Federation ship.  When his engineer went to examine it he discovered that someone was still in the pattern buffers for the ship's transporter.  Turned out it was Montgomery Scott, a famed engineer and crew member of the original NCC-1701 Enterprise.”  
  
    Buffy stepped back from the panel and returned to the console.  “Now this was a huge shock.  Like I said, normally a pattern in the buffer degrades in only a few minutes.  But Captain Scott had managed to find a way to stabilize the buffers with only minimal power.  When they rescued him he had been trapped in the transporter for seventy-five years.”  
  
    Giles looked on as he listened to Buffy's story.  It was fascinating, true, but he felt like he was missing something.  “What does this have to do with what is happening now,” he asked as Buffy stopped to take a breath.  “I do believe your computer said we were the only two aboard, so your Captain Scott is not present.  Did he make these adjustments to your ship for some reason?”  
  
    Buffy stopped and looked at him with a grin, “Nope, no Scotty aboard.  But then again, I never needed Scotty.  I've got something better than a Scot,” she said with amusement before entering in more commands at the console.  
  
    “And what pray tell is that,” Giles asked almost dreading the answer despite or because of the grin on her face.  
  
    Buffy shot him another grin and pressed something on the console without looking.  Giles could hear the humming of energy beneath the floors before he saw what was going to happen.  Before his eyes, Giles watched as Xander, Willow, and four others children he recognized from the school appeared before his eyes.  Each of them was dressed in some variation of the same uniform that Buffy herself wore and looked to be in good health.  
  
    As the newly recompiled teens looked around for a moment Buffy threw an arm around Giles' shoulders and squeezed as she looked at her friends.  “That's simple, Giles.  I have a Willow.”  
  
  
  
  



	6. Chapter 6

     Being beamed aboard a starship for the first time was an amazing, though horridly terrifying experience, Giles had concluded shortly after arriving aboard the Ghost Thorn.  Beholding six individuals being reconstructed out of the constitute molecules bit by bit was simply disturbing on a whole new level.  Giles silently vowed to never allow Buffy to use the blasted mechanism on him ever again.  Being torn apart and remade was simply unnatural.  
  
    His next surprise was when he realized that one of the six was not human.  He looked closely at Willow and was shocked to find she looked much as she did the night before.  The more prominent brow ridge compared to humans and the sharply pointed ears being the two most obvious features.  Her hair, however, was back to being red, though a deeper and darker shade than before.    
  
     Giles had to keep from sucking in a breath of fear that his young charges might have been harmed by Buffy's decision to merge their two halves together.  He quickly found his fears set aside as Willow stepped off the transport pad looking only mildly confused as to what was going on.  
  
     When Willow realized Buffy was there the confusion changed into a look of joy as a smile lit up her face.  She stepped forward and quickly threw herself at Buffy, squeezing her tightly.  
  
    "Buffy, oh I was so worried.  I remember you vanishing, then we got to the store where Ethan was.  Then we were being transported and we were still possessing ourselves.  Is it even possible to possess yourself," Willow said without pausing for breath as she stepped back from Buffy after the blonde gently returned the hug.  
      
     Giles stood in awe.  Buffy smoothly slid into command mode, not letting any of them think tot strongly on what was going on.  He had seen her take command before, giving out assignments to the Scoobies, and even on occasion himself, in the past.  This was wholly unlike anything he had seen her do.  If they had not spent the last hour talking he would have thought her still possessed.  
  
    “Number One, it's good to see you in one piece again,” Buffy said by way of greeting to Willow.  The redhead smiled, giving her tunic a small tug to pull it into place, suddenly looking both nervous and confident at once. “I need you to get started on the other transporter rooms,” Buffy continued handing a PADD over to Willow.  “This details the modifications I made here.  Do the same and bring our people home, Commander.”  
  
    Willow flushed scarlet for a few moments, her mouth starting to contest the orders Buffy was giving her.  She quickly snapped it shut, her eyes glazing over for a brief second before she nodded.  “Aye Aye, Captain,” she answered and quickly headed out into the corridor.  
  
    “Cap... Buf... Umm...,” Xander finally stammered out as his redheaded friend left the transporter room.  He looked around for a few minutes blinking until his eyes lit up and he quickly turned to Buffy.  “Oh.  My.  God.  This... it's... this is real...,” he stuttered.  
  
    Buffy simply nodded in response and raised an eyebrow to Xander's antics.  The bright smile that had lit his face did not dim in the least though he did suddenly find himself standing at attention before Buffy, “Lieutenant Commander Harris, reporting for duty, Captain.”  
  
    A small smile played across Buffy's lips as she spoke, her voice authoritative but gentle, “Very good Lieutenant Commander.  I need you to start with helping Willow handle our fellow Starfleet officers as she gets them out of the pattern buffers.  Get quarters assigned and if we have any engineers aboard aside from Willow and myself get them down to Engineering level ASAP and check on the core.  I'm currently reading all systems nominal but I want to be assured of that properly.  After you have assigned each person quarters have them report to me on the bridge so I can start assigning duties to those who will be staying aboard.”  
  
    Xander gave a curt nod and turned back to the others who had been in the pattern buffers with them intending to start his duties immediately.  He stopped abruptly, Buffy and Giles both noticing the tightening of his fists as he saw that Larry was one of them.  
  
    The tension hung for a moment almost giving cause for Buffy to step forward and say something when Larry spoke up.  “Lieutenant Commander, I apologize for my behavior towards you.  It was... inexcusable.  If the Captain wishes, I can handle engineering.”  
  
    Xander relaxed, the tension easing as his shoulders slid down to a more relaxed pose.  “Very good Lieutenant.  I'll get back to you once I've assigned you quarters,” he said with a nod.  
  
    Buffy smiled again and turned heading out of the room.  Her steps quickly brought her to the turbo lift which Giles had just enough time to slip in beside her.  She calmly told the computer to take them to the bridge once more and silence fell between the two.  
  
    “Buffy,” Giles said then cleared his throat causing the blonde to wince slightly.  “I.. um...  is it wise to leave children to wander about this ship?  From what I remember of Star Trek their vessels could easily be considered weapons of mass destruction.  And to have one go into the engine room unescorted is simply foolish.”  
  
    “Computer, hold,” Buffy commanded causing the turbo lift to suddenly stop moving.  She turned to fix Giles with a glare.  The Watcher once again was reminded of what a vampire feels like when they are hunted by Buffy and he was forced to swallow nervously.  
  
    'Her eyes, they aren't the same.  They're older, more aged than they should be,' he realized.  
  
    “Giles, I need to know if you are behind me,” she asked him in a cold voice.  
  
    “Of course, I am, Buffy.  I am simply questioning the...,” he began but was quickly cut off by Buffy raising a hand.  
  
    “No, I asked a yes or no question.  No further comment was invited or required,” she told him curtly.  She paced the confines of the turbo lift in silence rubbing her forehead with one hand.  When she stopped she looked up to Giles again, this time, the cold glare was gone but there was still a firmness to her eyes that he didn't remember seeing before, “Giles, right now those 'children' as you so blithely called them are the only hope we have of securing this ship.  And what do you think would happen if they were allowed to simply stand around and do nothing?  Panic is what would ensue, Giles.  Instead, I will treat them like the Starfleet officers they are until they prove they are unworthy of that trust.  It will give them something to focus on.  If the Lieutenant says he can handle engineering, then he can handle it.”  
  
    Giles closed his eyes and nodded, “Yes of course.  You are correct, idle hands and all that rot.  I should not have questioned your reasoning.  It appears you have things quite in hand.”  
  
    He startled a little and opened his eyes when he felt a small hand on his bicep.  Looking down he found the compassionate and trusting eyes of his Slayer once more.  She smiled a little and gave him a gentle squeeze before telling the computer to resume.  
  
    “Giles, I do not mind you coming to me with concerns.  Just for the love of all that is holy, do it in private only, like this.  I need to maintain command if I'm to see these people home or into a new life here on the Ghost Thorn.  I cannot have them questioning my authority or we'll have a mutiny,  That would be of the bad considering this ship would appear to be my new permanent home.” she said to him.  
  
    “Yes, quite right, dear girl.  Imagine the shape we would be in if Xander was captain,” Giles answered with humor in his voice.  
  
    Buffy snorted and covered her mouth trying to stop the giggles from coming out.  “That's not a very polite thing to say about my security chief, Giles,” she told him.  
  
    Giles quirked a sly grin and gave a single nod of agreement before rejoining with, “Yes, well, we British are not all polite manners and tea.  We are also football fans, after all.”  
  
    “I didn't know you liked football.  I thought you British people were into soccer,” Buffy said with a smile.  
  
    Giles simply groaned as the turbo lift doors opened and they stepped out.  
  


(***)

    Willow had just finished the modifications on her second transporter room and was silently thanking any and all gods who were listening that her alter ego had thought to modify the ships transporters they way she had.  Commander Willow Rosenburg had been an engineer before Captain Riker had convinced her to attend command school.  She already had all the qualifications to stand watch on the bridge, the formal schooling only further honed those skills and gave her new ones.  Yet however much she had loved being in the thick of the action on the bridge she always found herself tinkering with something in her spare time.

    That tinkering had led her to read the reports on Captain Scott and the modifications he had made to the ship he had found himself stranded on.  To manage to adapt the transporter buffers to store himself in stasis for seventy-five years had been a true miracle that few people had thought possible at the time he did it.  Upon reading the report the command officer in her had a meeting with the engineer and suddenly possibilities seemed endless.

    Having learned from Scotty's success as well as his failure the Commander had worked tirelessly to fine-tune her plans first on one of the holodecks and then to one of the transporter rooms.  Willow was forced to smile at her alter ego's memory of the Captain finding her half buried in the guts of transporter room 5, components and tools scattered all about her.  The Captain had calmly asked what she was doing that was so important that she was thirty minutes late duty.  A blushing and thoroughly embarrassed Commander who should have known better revealed her plan and gave the Captain her schematics and the holodeck program.  15 minutes later the two of them were buried deep in the guts of transporter room 5, the Captain having given orders that they were not to be disturbed short of war breaking out with the Vulcans.  By the time the two of them were finished modifying the ships transporters each of the six personnel transporter rooms were capable of holding a person in stasis for 10 hours without failure.

     'That saved our lives,' she realized.  'That and Buffy merging us so we didn't lose any part of ourselves, old or new.'

    Willow passed a hand along the elongated lobe of one of her ears.  She had already attempted to pull them off believing them still a part of her costume.  Of all the changes she had undergone due to the disrupted Holloween spell and Buffy... the Captain... Captain Buffy choosing to merge the patterns in the buffers instead of choosing one or the other her new status as non-human was by far the oddest.  Considering she now knew enough to not only dismantle the ships warp core but was intimately familiar with how to actually build one that was saying quite a bit.  She was, she believed, the only Romulan in existence.

    Willow chuckled as a fragment of a memory floated through her mind.  She could remember being only 5 years old and insisting over and over again that if she was half-Romulan like her mamma then she was all Romulan.  Her father had calmly asked her what being half human made her.

    “Not an egotistical meany head like Granpa,” Willow said with a touch of humor remembering her first impression of her paternal grandfather.  He had not approved of her parent's marriage, her father a promising scientist working on trans-warp theory and her mother a Romulan who had defected to escape a life of intrigue, murder, and suspicion.  She had learned to be proud of being Romulan, but also that sometimes even your own people get it wrong.

    Modifications complete Willow activated the transporter to bring the next six people out of its banks.  Among them, she recognized Amy and Mr. Lithgow, who had been her middle school science teacher.  The two other apparent humans she did not immediately recognize, though they appeared to be younger than she so were likely freshmen or eighth-graders still in middle school.  The final two she'd have no hope of knowing even if she knew them.  One was a Klingon woman dressed in a Star Fleet uniform with the insignia of a Lieutenant.  The second appeared to be Vulcan, but Willow had no hope of recognizing him due to the amount of blood on his face.

    The Vulcan's face was not the only source of the green colored fluid.  His arm had been twisted into an angle that nature normally did not allow.  Willow could see what appeared to be several raking slashes across his mid-section as well.  They looked deep and possibly fatal if they did not get him to sickbay quick enough.

    “Computer, activate Emergency Medical Hologram in Transporter room 3,” the First Officer ordered as she dropped to her knees to check for a pulse.  She sighed in relief when she both felt the faint threading rhythm beneath her fingers and heard the telltale sound of a hologram activating behind her.

    Unfortunately, that moment of faint hope was shot as a distinctly British accent from behind her spoke words first heard decades prior.  “What is the nature of the medical emergency.”

    Willow spun into a standing position and stared in shock at the EMH.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to give credit to AceDreamer over at TTH for inspiring the identity of the EMH, which is revealed in this chapter. He made a comment that spawned a plot bunny that refused to be buried. Thank you Ace!

      
  
    Buffy was looking through the files on the first of the people freed from the transporter's pattern buffer while she waited for the first interviewee  With nothing else to occupy her immediate concerns she felt it was the best use of her time.  She had moved her ship out of its geosynchronous orbit above Sunnydale using the ships impulse thrusters.  The Admiral in her wanted to take position behind the moon but she was still waiting on Blaisdell's report on the state of the ships engines before using the main impulse drive or warp drive.  Apart from being thankful for having her 1st and Tactical Officers back in the form of Willow and Xander respectively, she felt luck was on her side and didn't want to tempt it.  The first miracle was that it looked like she had personnel files on all of them.    
  
    The second stroke of good fortune had been Larry, Lieutenant Blaisdell had served as an Assistant Engineer aboard both an Intrepid and a Nova class ship.  Though she didn't recognize the names of the respective Captains or their Engineers, the Lieutenant had received glowing commendations in regards to his work ethic and ability to think around a problem rather than trying to bulldoze through it.  The only thing that had held him back were a pattern of bar fights that had a tendency to get him arrested whenever he was on shore leave.  Two such incidents had even occurred aboard ship during off-duty hours.  
  
    'Seems he has a bullying problem no matter which universe he's from,' she thought to herself as she scanned through his record.  'Citations for bravery, valor in combat during the Dominion War, but still has the energy to pick a fight in bars with fellow officers...'  
  
    Buffy made a note to see about getting him set up with the ship's counselor before realizing she didn't have one yet.  With a sigh, she moved on to the next name on her list.  
  
    'Master Sargent Frakes, who are you,' she wondered as she read his file.  He was one of the rare Starfleet Marines.  Their branch had been nearly extinct prior to hostilities with the Dominion.  Almost from the time  the cold war with the Gamma Quadrant Super Power had begun the long neglected service had seen an unprecedented upsurge in enlistment.  From what Buffy could tell Master Sargent Frakes was not one of those.  According to the record, the Sargent had enlisted in the SFMC almost immediately following his graduation from high school.  While enlisted he had earned bachelor degrees in both engineering and computer science but always refused any attempts to push him through to the SFMC's OCS.  
  
    She was about to continue until she saw the Sargent's picture that was attached to his file.  Pausing to look at it for several minutes a smile crept over her face.  She had seen him before, several times in fact.  He had been the owner of one of the small grocery stores in town prior to Holloween.  She knew that for 25 years he had served as a member of the USMC before he was forced to take a medical discharge due to loss of hearing from too many explosives going off near him.  Looking at the picture further made Buffy also realize that if this picture was accurate he was easily 10 years younger than when she had last spoken with him in Sunnydale.  
  
    'Hopefully, the Master Sargent is enjoying his new lease on life,' she quietly prayed to herself.  
  
    She was about to bring up the next individuals file when the double chirp of her comm sounded.  Giles looked up from where he sat with his cup of tea and a PADD that she had downloaded a rough history of the Federation onto for him, a startled expression on his face.  Buffy chuckled slightly and with a shake of her head answered the comm, “This is the Captain.”  
  
    “Bu... uh... Captain, could you come to sickbay,” she heard Willow's voice ask.  Beneath the surface of calm Buffy could almost feel a tension she hadn't heard in Willow's voice earlier.  It was equal parts amazement, amusement, and fear.  
  
    “Is there a problem, Number One,” Buffy asked as she stood from behind her desk and moved towards the doors that led out of her ready room.  
  
    “Not a problem, exactly... yet,” her 1st Officer answered cautiously.  “I would, however, like you to see what I am seeing to confirm I am not hallucinating, Captain.  If I'm not, then orders on how to handle this... this would be appreciated.”  
  
    Buffy spared a glanced to Giles as she strode out from her Ready Room and saw he was even more confused than she was.  Buffy took a moment as she boarded the turbo lift and closed her eyes trying to sort through the memories of Admiral Summers.  She had been hoping that somewhere in the slowly emerging memories there would be a hint as to what had Willow so spooked.  
  
    “Deck 8,” she told the computer as the doors slid shut behind her.  “Commander is this a matter related to the ship or to Sunnydale,” she asked hoping Willow would understand the question.  
  
    The sound of a squeaked, “Both,” was not what she had hoped for when Willow answered.  
  
    “I am on my way, call for security if Xander is not already there Willow,” she instructed her friend.  
  


(***)

    Andrew stood silently outside the doors to the medical bay.  Willow, 'Commander Rosenberg,' he reminded himself, had put him outside to stand guard when he wouldn't calm down.  Between seeing his best friend Jonathon covered in blood, the amazing technology the holographic doctor had been using to treat him, the fact there WAS a holographic doctor, and Willow's own nervous energy he had been bouncing between excited and scared out of his mind.  When Xander had come in and startled him, Andrew had almost ripped the Security Chief's head off in the most literal of senses.

    The possibility that his wildly swinging emotions were due in part to a vastly different brain chemistry and hormonal balance had crossed Andrew's mind.  He still refused to accept that as the central cause.  Through all of the arguments that had gone on in his own mind, Andrew had repeatedly assured himself that this entire situation was at fault, not something as base as biology.  Between the tech, his friend being injured, and no one recognizing him he had every reason to be upset.  He was almost positive... nearly positive... He was certain it was a possibility that the after effects of having his Federation alter ego merged with himself was not at fault.

    'It's not like Klingons are overly emotional or violent, right,' he asked himself for the thousandth time, each growing in the amount of internal sarcasm and denial.

    Andrew fidgeted with the black and gray SFMC tunic he wore and silently blamed Warren Mears' bet.  The bet, forced on him really with threats that involved jocks, cheerleading uniforms, and a garden hose, that Andrew could not get Cordelia to agree to even one date.  If he had won he'd have gotten to choose the costume Warren would have to wear for Holloween.  If he lost the opposite was true and he would have to give up his MNIB Boba Fett action figure from Return of the Jedi.

    Andrew quietly shed some tears for his lost Boba Fett.

    He ran his hand over his brow ridges, the sensation still new enough to him to cause his inner geek to spasm.  His more sensible side was trying to convince his inner geek to do far more than spasm.  If he could get enough excitement worked up over being Klingon he might be able to ignore anything else that might upset his worldview.

    Andrew went to adjust his tunic again, the same tunic he had thanked Jonathan for loaning him the previous night when Andrew admitted he'd never make it through a night of trick-or-treating in the heavier Klingon battle armor, and was suddenly wishing for the battle armor.  The fabric was stretched across places he'd rather not think about.  Every time he tried to adjust how it fit it sent a screaming message across his nerve endings about just how much he had changed.

    Andrew quietly shed some more tears for his lost Boba Fett.

    Hearing footsteps he quickly wiped the dampness from his eyes and straightened his back.  Not knowing who was approaching meant possible humiliation.  A Klingon in the middle of crying, no matter how well deserved his Boba Fett was of tears, would simply be asking for such.  Instead, Andrew drew himself up, digging deep into the memories he had of being a Klingon Warrior to bolster himself.  With a few deep breaths he found it easier to breath, the tightness in his lungs he hadn't even realized was there slipping away.  When Willow had explained the merging of the transporter patterns she had admitted no one knew what that would mean for them all.  Now as he felt that fierce pride and determination he thought every Klingon felt he started to get an idea of what it could mean if he let it.  If he sought it out.

    It was only a few moments later that Andrew saw Buffy, resplendent in his eyes, wearing the purple command uniform and piping marks of a One Star Admiral.  He had to stop himself from sucking in a breath when he saw her.  Even now, after losing his Boba Fett in that bet, she made Andrew long to be near her.

    As she approached she met his eyes casually and gave him a nod and a clear, “Lieutenant.”  Andrew hadn't expected anything more from whoever it was, least of all the blonde beauty turned Admiral before him.

    When she stopped before entering the Medical Bay and started to really look at him it took all of Andrew's newfound will to not fidget.  He felt distinctly like a first-year cadet being inspected for flaws in his uniform.  The fact that her eyes never left his face only made the inspection all the more surreal for him.  Buffy had never paid such close attention to him before and despite how much he had once felt he wanted it he was quickly discovering how unnerving it could be.

    “Lieutenant...,” she said letting her voice hang in the void of words, obviously expecting him to finish.

    Andrew's breath caught in his throat.  He was certain that somehow she had recognized him when others had not.  Willow, Xander, the others that had been in the transporter pattern buffers with Jonathan and him, none of them had recognized him.  Anonymity had been his shield and he had been at least partially thankful for it for the first time in his life.  Now as Buffy's eyes locked onto his and her one eyebrow raised he knew that shield had just been shattered.  She was going to out him, humiliate him, and make sure that everyone else knew it.

    Drawing in a breath to answer Andrew felt that other half of his new self awaken with a passion he had never known before.  In that moment he felt strong, his pride and self-confidence soared.  He knew that if she insulted him, tarnished his honor in any way, that he would challenge her, superior officer in Starfleet be damned.

    “First Lieutenant Andrew Wells,” he answered in the rich vibrating contralto that was now his voice, straightening his spine further without thought as he pushed his shoulders back.

    Buffy smiled, just a small one that was but a fraction of an upturned lip.  It wasn't condescending or arrogant;  it was a pleased expression, proud even, Andrew realized.  She gave a slight nod and reached out clapping him on his shoulder.  “Once I've seen what my 1st Officer believes is such an emergency I want you to come back to my ready room with me Lieutenant,” she told him.  “I think the two of us might have enough to talk about to keep ourselves busy for a few years. And unless we find a ships counselor amongst the new crew, we might be all each other has.”

    Andrew nearly fell back against the wall.  Only a muscle memory he couldn't remember having kept him from stumbling as he instinctively adjusted his balance.  A small nod was all the answer he gave the Admiral and she returned it with that small smile once more.

    Buffy started to step past him to enter the Medical Bay but once more stopped herself, turning to the new Klingon Lieutenant now under her command.  She gave him a look that Andrew could only call mischievious before opening her mouth once more to speak, this time sounding much more like the teenager he knew from school and less like an Admiral, “Just think, you don't have to sneak into the girls locker room anymore, Ms. Wells.”

    Before the joke even registered Buffy was already through the door into the Medical Bay, leaving one bewildered sort of teenage Klingon to gawk at the spot she had once occupied.

    'Maybe losing my Boba Fett isn't the worst thing in the world,' the Lieutenant considered, falling back into place to continue guarding the door.

(***)

    Buffy swept in the Medical Bay with the newly female Andrew on her mind.  She could comprehend how staggering the change was for Andrew only in the vaguest of senses.  Yes, she had gone from being Miss Popularity and cheerleader to being the Slayer overnight in the past.  More recent events come with even more experience with sudden unexpected changes in her life.  Yet she had meant what she had said.  She would be there to talk to him, to try and understand.  No one from her old life had been there to support her when she had become the Slayer, which was traumatic enough.  The thought of a gender swap on top of that made her cringe internally.

    Regardless, she hoped that they would find someone had inherited the memories and skills of a counselor.  Buffy knew without a doubt even without parsing through the slowly emerging memories of life in Starfleet that her crew would need someone to talk to about the changes they had experienced.  Some, like herself and Andrew, more than others.

    Pushing Andrew from her immediate concerns, Buffy stepped up to her 1st Officer.  The pallor of her skin gave her cause for concern but she passed it off as she saw the back of someone, the EMH she assumed, working fervently.  Willow had always been the first to pale when the group learned some disgusting tidbit of information and for the moment she assumed that was what had upset her Second in Command.

    “Someone injured before the beam out, Number One,” Buffy asked hoping to draw out Willow's more professional side so the redhead could get past the sight of the trauma before them.

    It seemed to work, at least partially.  Willow's eyes flickered from the operating theater to Buffy as she turned to face her Captain.  “Yes, Captain.  I wasn't sure who it was at first.  Between the blood and now being Vulcan his appearance was a bit muddled.  Turns out it was Jonathan, which surprised me.  I would have expected Andrew to be with him.”

    Buffy let a smirk slip across her features as her eyes filled with mirth as her 1st Officer and best friend admitted to not recognizing the Klingon now standing guard outside the Medical Bay.  “Was the Klingon standing guard outside not in the same transport group as Mr. Levinson,” she asked trying to restrain the laugh that was attempting to bubble up inside her.

    “Yes, she was,” Willow said with some confusion, “What does that... have... to...”  Willow's voice trailed off as her eyes grew large and round.  The implications of the question quickly sunk in and left Willow blinking as she tried to wrap her head around it.

    “Until we manage to find a way for psychiatric evaluations of everyone affected, I want you to keep an ear out amongst the crew,” Buffy said, her mirth and humor falling away.  “I don't know if Andrew will be the only one affected by events like this or not.  Regardless I won't see her humiliated and bullied for something that was out of her control.”  Buffy paused, chewing on her lip as a thought came to her and she saw another way to deal with potential issues.  “In fact, if anyone does attempt to humiliate the Lieutenant due to this situation, I'd consider it a personal favor if you reminded them of what insulting the honor of a Klingon meant.”

    Willow choked for a moment as the intent behind her Captain's request became obvious.  “You know it won't take but one to screw up that way to get the message across,” she told Buffy with a small smile of her own once she recovered from the shock she felt at seeing how devious Buffy could be.  She could actually feel a little pride in her Captain for handling the situation without having to bore straight into it like a wrecking ball.

    “That is the intent.  I'll let Miss Wells know not to hurt anyone too severely.  Though I fully expect the EMH or whomever we end up with for a CMO to be fairly busy after the example,” Buffy told Willow with a feeling of satisfaction.  “So what was the emergency that required my presence, Willow?  I had begun thinking it was about Andrew for a moment.”

    Willow took a breath and shot a glance back were the EMH was finishing his work on Jonathan.  With a grimace, she turned back to Buffy and tilted her head towards the operating theater.  “It's actually about the EMH,” she said as concern crept into her voice.  “Buffy, you aren't the only hologram that is someone we know.”

    Buffy started to smile.  The feeling of not being so alone with her new existence was a salve that she hadn't realized she had desired.  Another self-aware hologram could give her someone to talk too about this new life she found herself in. The continued look of consternation and worry on Willow's face quickly abashed her of any and all of those ideas.

    “Well, he seems to be doing alright in the medical department or you wouldn't be letting him work on Jonathan.  Is it someone who used to pick on you and Xander,” she asked, quickly followed by her eyes widening as she went on, “Oh, no, it's not Cordelia, is it?  Did she get turned into a guy hologram?”

    Willow shook her head negatively and bit her lip.  Buffy realized her 1st Officer was dreading spilling the beans and that was only making Buffy a more agitated Admiral.  “Well then, who is it, Willow?  He can't be that bad if he's over there fixing up Jonathan.  It's not like it's Spike or something.”

    Willow's suddenly white complexion was enough of an answer for Buffy.  For the first time since getting Willow and Xander out of the pattern buffer, she was rocked back on her heels. Absently she found herself a chair to sit in and watched as the EMH finished his work on Jonathan and stepped away.  When he turned and saw her, Buffy watched as a look of intense concentration flowed from his face and was replaced by a scowl.

    “You!  What the bloody hell did you do to me, Slayer!”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank BotticellisMuse from Twisting the Hellmouth for being my Beta Reader for this story starting with this chapter. Bott's insight into the characters actually helped me avoid making a bit of a mistake handling Giles reaction to seeing Spike for the first time as well as catching several grammar based errors. This proves what I tell everyone, that having a second set of eyes on a work always helps no matter how good the technology you are using is.
> 
> Thanks a lot BotticellisMuse for your contributions to this story. May our partnership be long and fruitful.

    Buffy never thought she would see the day that a former Slayer and a former Vampire would sit down, to talk over hot chocolate.  The fact that she was the former Slayer and Spike was the former Vampire only made the situation that much more wig-some to her.  The looks of confusion, anger, and even occasional flashes of pleasure on Spike's face let her know she wasn't the only one having issues.  
  
    When she appeared back in her Ready Room with Spike, the Slayer of Slayers, in tow, Giles had nearly collapsed in some sort of epileptic fit.  Trying to communicate with her Watcher while he was in the middle of having a truly Scooby worthy freak out had proven impossible, so she had offered Spike a drink and sat down to figure out what was going on.  
  
    She had to have Giles taken to his quarters less than 15 minutes later when his fit turned into a near catatonic state.  Buffy was sure that it was likely to be the accumulation of stresses that had broken her Watcher.  As experienced as he was with the strangeness that was their daily lives, even the most blase individual had their breaking point.  
  
    Much to Buffy's surprise Spike had even offered to examine the Watcher in an almost casual fashion, proving to her yet again just how strange the entire situation was.  When she gave a rather non-commital response he neatly brushed off the entire matter, assuring her that her Watcher would recover with rest and time to adjust to things, something she was certain Spike was not doing so well on himself.  
  
    “So what is this, Slayer,” Spike asked, the distrust evident in his voice.  “Not that I don't like a good cup of hot chocolate, mind you, but shouldn't you be trying to finish what your Watcher started?”  
  
    Buffy leaned back in her chair and gave Spike a thorough look over.  He was tense, nervous even as if he expected her to suddenly space him.  She wasn't sure if that would actually affect vampires but knew that the vacuum of space would do little to a photonic being other than removing them from the holo-emitters giving it form.  
  
    “I'm trying to figure something out,” she said casually.  “Specifically, I'm trying to figure you out, Spike.  You saved Jonathan's life.  You could have just watched him die.  Instead, you spent nearly thirty minutes putting him back together.  And just a moment ago you offered to give Giles an examination to ensure he was alright.  Why is that?”  
  
    Spike shifted uncomfortably in his seat, one hand coming up to rub behind his neck.  “Wasn't no sense in let'n him die like that, was there?  I coulda, I s'pose.  Tell me this, though.  Where would that leave me?  Not like I got a whole lotta clue what the bloody hell is going on here.  Same with Tweed-boy.”  
  
    It made sense.  Spike was smart, couldn't live as a vampire for as long as he did and take down two Slayers single-handedly if he was stupid.  Cooperation for as long as he couldn't control a situation was the right play for him.  He stood a chance of getting on people's good side long enough to make a play for either freedom or control.  It was neat, it was simple, it made sense.  
  
    It also stank like a public restroom.  
  
    “That is not all, is it Spike?”  
  
    His eyes flashed in anger and for a moment, Buffy half expected to see the amber eyes of his demon.  All she saw was bright blue eyes shining with intelligence.  “You bloody well know it isn't!” he yelled  at her.  “I couldn't, not wouldn't, but couldn't leave him to bleed out like that.  Hell, I didn't even want to leave the little elf to die!”  He fumed silently for a moment.  Buffy could see he was struggling to keep control of himself if nothing else, at the same time there was something he wasn't saying.  “So what the bloody hell did you do to me, Slayer?  How'd you defang the Big Bad?”  
  
    Buffy pushed that sense of something unspoken aside, with an almost laugh.  Spike believed this was some sort of plot on her end, and part of her was insulted.  “Wasn't me, Spike.  A Chaos Sorcerer by the name of Ethan Rayne is the cause of all our misfortune.  As for how you ended up as our EMH...  the Big Bad didn't by chance dress up for Halloween did he?” she asked with a lilting tone to her voice, bolstered only by a sly smile that she couldn't quite avoid.  
  
    She watched as all the fight drained out of Spike.  His eyes slipped shut, giving her only the briefest glimpse of the haunted look he now wore.  Slumping in on himself, Spike looked small, tiny even.  Buffy felt a small chill seeing him like this.  Every part of her, new and old, felt it was wrong to see him so defeated looking.  
  
    “Dru,” he said so quietly Buffy almost missed it.  “Bloody bint had some of the minions go out and get us costumes.  Told them no killing the nice man who owned the store.  Made them go in and pay proper like.”  He let out a sigh, as much an artifact of his humanity now as it had been when he was a vampire.  “I'd wager the daft bird knew what was coming.  Kept talking about fixing things, finding her cure.  Told me over and over again that things would be made right, that the sunshine would save me.  Told her that was daft, we're... we were vampires, sunshine would'a dusted us.  She kept insisting, crying about how the stars were calling us and we had to go traipsing about with the sunshine.”  
  
    Buffy let out a sigh and ran a hand down her face.  “Dru's costume, was it one like yours?”  
  
    Spike gave a small nod as he answered her, his voice sounding tired somehow, “Yea, blue an' black just like this one.  Had two little metal dots on it.  I 'member she took forever getting ready.  Painted these spots all up and down herself.  Said she had to make sure she was ready.  Had to make sure the new home was all safe and secure for the wee one.”  
  
    “She went as a Trill,” Buffy reasoned and began tapping her fingers on the arm of her chair.  Spike gave her a blank look for a moment then understanding flowed over him.  
  
    Buffy grabbed her PADD and started looking through the personnel files she had.  It took her some time to find Drusilla's and Buffy was about to go into a giggle fit as she read over it. Spike was giving her an expectant look that she was about to answer when his comm badge chirped.  
  
    Spike tapped the device almost instinctually to answer it,”Spike here.”  
  
    “Spi... Doctor, could you report to transporter room 6, please,” came Willow's voice from the device.  
  
    Spike glanced over at Buffy and she gave him both a nod and a hopeful smile.  “On my way,” he told Willow and rose from his seat muttering the whole while on doing what crazy birds told him to do.  
  
    Once he was out of her Ready Room, Buffy tapped her own comm badge, “Summers to Harris.”  
  
    “What's up Buffster,” the answering voice responded causing Buffy to cringe slightly.  She'd have to put her foot down, that would never do in public.  
  
    “Spike was just called to transporter room Six.  According to him, Drusilla dressed the both of them up in Starfleet Medical Uniforms.  I have her personnel file and Transporter Room 6 is the last one to get its people out of the buffers.”  
  
    “So, you want me to get down there with a security detachment in case Dru isn't as cuddly as our new Doctor?” he answered back the wariness obvious in his voice.  “Out of curiosity, why haven't we deactivated him?”  
  
    Sighing Buffy leaned back in her chair, “Simply put Xander, he is not a danger to us.  The EMH does not have access to anything that can cause us problems.  To top it off, even if the EMH programming didn't keep him from hurting us through action or inaction, we can always shut him off with a voice command.  He's no threat to anything.”  
  
    Buffy barely caught Xander's muttered, “Except my sanity,” and could only nod in agreement.  “So the Evil Dea... err…Is Spike going to be our doctor?  What about Drusilla?”  
  
    Buffy pinched the bridge of her nose, expecting that question and Xander's response to the answer.  “According to her files---Ship's Counselor.”  
  
    The choking sound that followed was just what she expected from her friend.  Once he calmed down, he said, “Alright Captain, I'm on my way to make sure everything is alright.  I just hope it is, alright that is.  We can turn off Spike, that's easy enough.  Don't fancy a fight with a crazy vampire.”  
  
    “You and me both,” she told the air as the connection cut off.  
  


(***)

    When Spike walked into the transporter room, his eyes fell on her instantly.  Her hair, always long and thick with dark curls fell down around her shoulders loosely.  Her skin glowed a healthy peach color, something he had never seen on his dark princess in all the decades they had spent together.  Her eyes were what nearly brought him to his knees to join her on the floor.  They were filled with tears.

    Spike rushed to stand in front of her, dropping down into a squat.  He put his hands on her shoulders and met her wet eyes with his own.  A glance over to Willow showed the redheaded Commander was nearly as pale as Drusilla usually was, and obviously shaken.  Her hand was over her mouth as if trying to keep herself quiet.

    “What did you do to her,” he demanded in a cold voice devoid of any humanity.

    Willow shook her head and drew in a breath.  Finally letting her hand slide down to fall by her side, she met Spike’s glare with her own determination, almost causing the former vampire to flinch.  “Nothing, Spike, other than getting her out of the pattern buffer.  Almost as soon as she realized where she was, she... she...,” Willow's face started to get its color back and continued past being healthy to blushing.  “She kissed me.  Then broke down in tears begging for her William.  She kept saying she needed his forgiveness more than any others.”

    Spike felt the strangeness of the situation run through him and knew who his dark princess was talking about.  He just didn't understand why.  What would she have to ask him forgiveness for?  She'd been his unlife for over a century and he would do anything to make her happy.

    “Oh my William,” her soft soprano voice called out as she finally spoke.  “Oh my William, I am so sorry.  What I did to you, what I let him do to you, and the choices I never let you have.  It was so wrong, so bad.  I took so much away from you, and now you are trapped in the ether like the sunshine, all because I saw a way to save myself.”

    Spike's eyes shot back to Drusilla's face.  Her fingers came up and gently started tracing the lines of his face, running over his cheeks and jaw.  The tears were slowly dissipating but the sorrow he saw in her eyes wasn't.  Then he noticed her chest rising and falling with each breath, felt the pulsing of blood within her veins, and registered the warmth of her skin against his photonic form.

    “You're alive... Dru.  You are bloody well alive, a breather,” he stammered out.

    Drusilla only nodded then leaned in and wrapped her arms around Spike tightly as the tears refreshed themselves, “I'm alive, my William, alive and sane for the first time in so long.  The voices of the stars are not so overwhelming.  They  are once again gentle with me.  All it cost me was giving you up to the sunshine.”

(***)

    Buffy entered the conference room trying to look more controlled and in command than she felt.  It had taken hours for Willow to get all of the Sunnydalers, all of her people, out of the buffers.  Her First Officer had worked tirelessly only stopping briefly when they had found Jonathan wounded and near death after coming out of the pattern buffers.  She now had a crew of 36 individuals.  Individuals who, like herself, were now both trained Starfleet personnel and people pulled from whatever had passed as their normal lives atop the Hellmouth.

    She had finished her first interviews of the crew only an hour after Willow had pulled the last batch from the limbo the transporters had been.  Out of them, she had to pick and choose thirty-six people who were best suited for the tasks ahead.  These would be the people she would trust to do their jobs in the immediate future.  She had wanted to give them more time to settle in.  More time for her too, to learn about them personally, more time for them to adjust to the vast alterations they had undergone.

    They were out of time.

     She could see the strain on each of them.  It was clear in their eyes, the lines of their lips, and the tilt of their heads.  The way they held their bodies, afraid something might shatter their reality at a single moment.  The terrifying thing for Buffy was that she felt the same way.

     'Damn circumstances,' she thought to herself, thankful that no Betazoids were present.

    Rounding the conference table, Buffy took her seat at the head.  She looked at the faces before her.  She knew all of them, at least tangentially from her life in Sunnydale.  She was surprised to realize that her other half recognized more than just Willow and Xander as well.  It was a comforting thought that she would have familiar faces in one way or another around her as her future, their future---the new future unfolds.

    “Number One, if you will please,” she said as she sat down, straightening her tunic in a habitual and unneeded gesture.

    Willow rose from her seat, her face set in lines both familiar and unfamiliar to those around her.  The determination she held had only been glimpsed by those that had been subjected to the shy teasing redheads ‘resolve face.’  Now she wore it unconsciously, her Romulan heritage adding a grim look to her.  “At 03:00 hours Pacific, we detected several satellites in orbit around the earth come under power.  Normally the thrusters used would only be activated to ensure a stable orbit.  However they were instead used to move the satellites into entirely new orbits.”

    Tapping her PADD, a wall display" screen flared to life, showing the earth accompanied by smaller markers representing the Terran satellites as they began to adjust their trajectories.  “From what we detected, we believe they have been moved intentionally to be in closer proximity to us.”

    “Why?” Larry asked from his seat.  Looks from the non-Scoobies urging him to continue, he tapped his PADD and glanced at it, “What I mean is, it doesn't make sense.  After I secured the warp core and ensured we weren't going to light up like the Fourth, I looked over the rest of the Ghost Thorn’s specs.  The passive stealth systems alone should have ensured that 20th century Radar and Lidar should never have detected us.  They simply don't have the systems necessary to scan for our warp core signature or energy readings from our impulse drive.  Heck, most modern Federation ships outside of Section 31 wouldn't know we were here if we operated under silent-run conditions.”

    Jonathan gave a small nod to his fellow Lieutenant, “If this is true, then they must have detected us by another means.  It is the only logical conclusion,” he answered in the steady timbre of a Vulcan.  Buffy smiled slightly seeing that his wounds appeared healed, thankful that he didn't suffer any permanent damage from whatever had attacked him on the surface of the planet below them.

    “This ship does not have a cloaking device, does it?” Andrew spoke up causing several heads to turn to the Klingon.  Buffy felt the tug at her lips at the fact no one had yet to realize who he was other than herself, and if she were right--also Jonathan.  She had no intention on spilling the now female Klingon's secrets and was enjoying the mild confusion among the rest of her friends and crew.

    “No, its stealth technology operates on older principles of absorbing potential scanning energy and redirecting or containing its own emissions during stealth operations.  It's very similar, though more advanced, to the technology used on stealth submarine vessels or stealth aircraft,” Larry answered.

    “Commander, what is the current location and orientation of the Hubble telescope?” Jonathan asked calmly.

    Willow tapped a few commands into her PADD and the information came up.  The groan from Larry and the head slap Xander gave himself, only mirrored what the rest of the group were thinking.  On the display was the Hubble Telescope, currently located between them and Earth---pointed directly at them---less than four kilometers away according to the ship's sensors.

    “Alright, so we have determined that your Captain didn't look when she was parking the car,” she said in a light tone to the others, determined not to let self-blame diffuse among them.  “That is not our concern at this point,” she said forcing their attention back to the meeting.

    With a nod, Willow continued her briefing for those present, “Shortly after the satellites, all military communication satellites from what we can tell moved into position, we began receiving a hail on nearly every single band accessible by current Terran technology.  AM, FM, UHF, and even bands usually reserved for government use.  The message is short, repeating, and essentially a plea for help.”

    Tapping her PADD Willow started the recording.  The calm voice of a man speaking out into the depths of space to address someone he did not know sounded throughout the conference room, “Unknown Vessel in Earth Orbit, this is General Hammond of Stargate Command.  As you have taken no hostile action against us, we hope to find you in peace.  However, I fear you have come at an unfortunate time.  We, the people of earth, find ourselves under threat by a species known as the Goa'uld.  We have intelligence that one of their leaders is on his way here to Earth with the intent to destroy or enslave us.  If you are indeed peaceful to our planet, I would ask that you contact us.  We have no means of defending our home against an incursion from space.  If you are unwilling or incapable of assisting us, then you are warned.  Any vessels entering this solar system will most likely be hostile to any and all present when they arrive.”

    “The message then repeats, each time in a different language.  So far they have gone through nearly every dialect spoken on Earth in the 20th century.  Most interesting though is that some of the broadcasts are being done in dead languages as well as one we do not have on file,” Willow finished.

    Buffy leaned back in her chair and looked at the faces of those she had gathered around the table.  They were to be her advisors, her comrades, her confidants.  A group comprised of individuals who had been friends, enemies, or simply strangers to her only a scant few hours ago.  Now she felt the weight of responsibility on her chest once more.  It was so much alike to when she had realized she had to face the Master.  It threatened to strangle her, to drown her in its heavy embrace.

    Then Eliza's thoughts surged forward, reminding her that unlike what happened with the Master, she was not alone now.  She would not fight a battle in the shadows, were only she stood.  She now had allies who would stand behind her and beside her.  She only had to accept both the relief they represented, and also the responsibility of taking that relief given.  Eliza understood the loneliness of being in command and knew that though it was weighty, it was nothing like what Buffy Summers had suffered before.

    “Lieutenant Blaisdell, I want you to double check the engines.  If we find ourselves in battle, I want all systems available to us.  You already read the specifications of our new home.   You know what she is capable of if cornered.  Make sure she is ready,” she barked out.

    “Lieutenant Osbourne, I want you and Ensign Levinson to prepare long-range probes to be deployed to monitor the solar system.  If so much as a flea makes a move toward the system, I want to know about it before it arrives.”  The two gave her nods before she turned next to Spike and Drusilla, two people she never thought she would ever work with.  Oddly enough it was Drusilla's now trill form that was lodged firmly in her memories.  Eliza had known the strange alien woman "and even been friends with her.  It still gave Buffy a sense of oddity that wanted to turn into more, but she pushed it down to be dealt with later.

    “Doctor, Lieutenant Shi'a, see to the Medical Bay.  Make sure we are ready for the wounded in the event that there are casualties,” she told the two medical officers and was shocked when they both answered with an affirmative ‘Aye, Captain.’

    “Lieutenant,” she said turning to Andrew next, intentionally not speaking his name for the time being.  “We have a Master Sargent aboard, from the SFMC.  I want you to work with him to go through the crew roster.  We don't have many people to spare, but I want you to pick three others so we would have a boarding party ready to go should we need one, “Andrew grinned broadly, his sharp Klingon smile clear for all to see.

    Finally turning to her XO and Tactical officers she gave them a smile, “Once the Lieutenant has had her pick for a boarding party, I want you to get a duty roster written up, Number One.  Commander Harris, while Commander Rosenberg is busy, you will have the Bridge.”

    A quiet mousey voice spoke up, barely audible over the sounds of people standing to carry out their Captains orders.  It took Buffy a moment to realize it was her Flight Operations Officer, Amy Madison, “And me, Ma'am," the teen Buffy had once saved asked.

    Buffy smiled as she approached the girl and patted her on the shoulder, “You are going to prepare a shuttle craft.  I have a feeling, I’m going to need to go planet-side shortly, and I don't think the US Military will take kindly to a direct intrusion into their facilities.”  



	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to my beta reader for helping me refine my vision of the Scoobies new merged personalities.

Buffy sat in the Captain's chair on the bridge of her ship, calmly watching and listening to the activity around her. The probes had been sent on their way only minutes ago, scattering to the edge of the solar system, to act as a trip-wire should anything enter it. Amy reported that she had completed a preflight check over of one of the runabouts sitting in the main shuttle bay and that its systems were operational, ready to launch at a moment’s notice. Andrew and the Sargent were already doing the drills in one of the two holodecks with their chosen boarding party.

Spike and Drusilla assured her that the sickbay was as prepared as it could be for combat operations, though she was certain Spike was still having a crisis of personality. Drusilla seemed oddly certain of herself and her presence on the ship. Normally that would worry Buffy, but right this moment she had enough on her plate, so she pushed those thoughts aside and focused on the immediate, rather than the possible.

Her First Officer had already handed her a working duty roster and joined Xander and herself on the bridge. They were short on personnel, but Willow had done a fabulous job in assuring that the most important areas would be manned at all times with holographic officers, filling in the gaps during combat operations. It was far from ideal, but once again the immediate needs were more important than any future problems.

Deciding they had put off the inevitable long enough, Admiral Buffy Summers, Captain of the Ghost Thorn turned to her Ops officer. “Ensign, open a channel to the nearest satellite broadcasting General Hammond’s message.”

“Aye, aye, Ma'am,” Ensign Levinson called back as he tapped the console before him. “Channel open, Admiral.”

Buffy crossed her legs and tapped the receiver switch on her armchair, turning on her personal microphone to record a message. “Admiral Eliza Summers, Captain of the Federation Starship Ghost Thorn, to General Hammond, United States Air Force,” she started, her voice calm as she injected as much warmth into it as she could. “I am afraid that leaving the vicinity of Earth is not an option for us. As I am sure you can now guess, our vessel is not precisely from around these parts, and any hope we have for returning home would be lost if we were to abandon Earth. It is our intent to defend this planet against any, and all invaders. While I am sure this is welcome news to you, I would like to meet you face to face, and discuss the situation in more detail. I will be awaiting your reply and coordinates for our meeting. Summers out.”

Buffy glanced at Jonathan and slashed her hand across her throat, signaling for him to cut the connection. Once it ended, Buffy rose from her seat and headed towards her ready room. “Mr. Osbourne, you have the bridge. Willow, Xander, please join me in my ready room.”

Her two best friends quickly followed her to the doors of her sanctuary. As the doors closed behind the three of them, Buffy Anne Summers, high school student, and Slayer, prayed she would make the right decisions in the future.

[***]

The knock on the door leading into General Hammond's office was quick and perfunctory. Without being told to, the door opened admitting Maybourne into the superior officer’s space. Hammond frowned slightly at the lack of military discipline but shoved the thought aside quickly enough. After having Jack around, it seemed a minor thing to overlook.

“I take it we have something,” Hammond asked as he sat straighter in his chair.

Maybourne nodded as he dropped a file on Hammond's desk and sat down. “Yes, Sir, we do. I'll admit, if I had listened to a few of your geek types earlier, we might have had a better idea of what we were dealing with hours ago,” he admitted with a sigh.

Hammond flipped open the file but didn't look down at it immediately. Instead, he kept his eyes on Maybourne who wore a concerned look in his eyes that the General didn't like. “Is there a problem we could have avoided, Colonel?”

Maybourne shook his head slightly before leaning back in the chair, “Not a problem, yet. Hopefully, we will be able to avoid one. I caught wind from some of my contacts in the Pentagon that the NID is trying to go over your head and convince the President to launch against the previously unknown ship in orbit.”

“Setting aside the NID for the moment and how idiotic a launch against such a vessel that has taken no hostile action against us would be, I take it we have now identified whose ship that is,” the General said in a voice though calm was threaded with a touch of anger.

Maybourne nodded then motioned to the file in front of the General, “They made contact less than 10 minutes after we started to broadcast your message to them. This is where the sci-fi fans you have working here bit me on the ass. Seems the vessel is called the Ghost Thorn of…get this.. the United Federation of Planets.”

Hammond blew out a breath and looked at Maybourne in disbelief for the space of a heartbeat, before admitting to himself that the Colonel wouldn't play a prank on him like this. “So we have a starship, from a tv series, in orbit above our planet. You don't seem very pleased about this, Colonel. Did they refuse to render aid?”

“No,” Maybourne replied with a shake of his head, “they have agreed to help us. Even requested a meeting with you, so they could be more fully informed of the threat.”

“Then what seems to be the problem, Colonel?” General Hammond pressured.

Maybourne fidgeted slightly in his chair and looked contemplative for a moment before answering. “They want or need something from us,” he started as he tried to voice his concerns. “An advanced civilization from what should be a fictional government---it doesn't follow. It would imply that Gene Roddenberry was an alien himself, or had contact with them decades before the Stargate was opened, and neither of these makes any sense. We haven't even heard a whisper of this Federation of Planets from any of the SGC's missions.”

The General nodded slightly, “So you think this might be a trap of some sort. The Goa'uld have never been much for manipulations like this. All accounts of their SOP is---they just announce themselves as gods, then start enslaving or killing the local populace.”

“That is what worries me, General. These... visitors are trying to get on our good side. Why? If their technology is anywhere near what is depicted in the Star Trek series, any of them, then what could we have to offer them?” Maybourne blew out a breath and sat up a little straighter. “I asked around, both with your science department people, and some of the military personnel who know Star Trek better than I do. They use anti-matter and a material known as Deuterium as fuel sources. The first we have only managed to produce in microscopic quantities, not enough to provide a fuel source for them. The second is supposedly a fictional element, or at the very least---an element we do not know of. The crystals they use in their warp drive engines, Dilithium, is again supposedly fictional or at least unknown to us. They are supposed to have the ability to provide their own food via replication as well. Now, what do we have to offer them, General?”

General Hammond nodded at each of Maybourne's iteration as he thought back to what he knew of the Star Trek TV series. “Colonel, is it possible they do not want anything from us?” At Maybourne’s incredulous look Hammond knew the thought had never passed through the mind of the other officer. “If, and this is an admittedly large ‘if,’ Colonel, they are who they say they are, what evidence do we have that they want anything?” At the blank look Maybourne was giving him, General Hammond chuckled slightly. “Colonel, there is a third option you did not consider, though I imagine it might give the scientists around here a headache the size of Texas. What if they are from an alternate dimension? We already know these dimensions exist. If these people really are from the Federation, they have no reason to ask for anything of material value. Money as we know it doesn't exist in the Federation. And if they came through some sort of dimensional rift into our system and orbit...”

“They would need to stay here to have the best hope of getting back through the rift, if it does exist,” Maybourne finished the General's thought. “It's plausible, though I still don't trust them. It all fits too easily and too well with recent events here at the SGC.”

General Hammond again nodded his agreement with the assessment. “Yes, it does fit rather nicely with things we have recently learned. I doubt we have any leaks here at the SGC other than those reporting back to you or the NID,” he told the Colonel who looked momentarily 'officially offended' before dropping the act and looking embarrassed. “Still, we should take precautions during this meeting. Invite them to the mountain, it will keep things on our home turf at the very least. Give them clearance for four people, the same size as one of our SG teams. We'll have SG-2 and SG-5 sit in on the meeting. Officially, because outside of SG-1, they have the most experience with Goa'uld.”

The Colonel smiled slightly and rose from his seat with a nod, “And unofficially, that many airmen will help to ensure we maintain control of the situation. I'll make arrangements to send a reply and inform SG-2 and 5 about their new orders.”

“Get it done, Colonel. Whether or not they have secondary motives in helping us, we do need the help of that ship, with Apophis on his way here. Make sure the men know that. I don't want someone to offend our guests needlessly and lose us a valuable ally.”

Maybourne nodded as he saluted then turned to leave. The potential for an ally with technology at the level seen in the Star Trek TV series is a gem of a career-making event for all of them involved. The only thing that could be an even greater boost to both personal careers and the safety of the entire planet, would be getting that technology for themselves.

'Too bad we don't have a way to get aboard that ship,' Maybourne thought as he moved through the corridors of the SGC, his mind already going through possible scenario's to do just that.

(***)

Buffy took the seat behind her desk and motioned for Willow and Xander to take the chairs across from her. Blowing out a breath, she pinched the bridge of her nose and tried to gather her thoughts.

“Keep doing that, and I'm going to expect you to start talking with a British accent, Buff,” Xander said breaking the silence as he sat down.

Buffy rolled her eyes up to look at him without moving the rest of her body. Willow for her part let out a snort and shook her head, “Is that any way to talk to your Captain,” the redhead asked, trying to school her features into one of stern displeasure and only partially succeeding.

“No, but it is how I'll talk to Buffy. We can't let all this ‘Admiral this, Captain that’ stuff get to her head, can we? How long would it be until she starts wearing tweed if we do?” Xander asked his best friend since kindergarten with an unrepentant grin.

“At least I would make the tweed look good,” Buffy told him, a small smile playing on her lips. “And as long as you keep it behind closed doors, Xander. I already had to give Giles a talking to about command authority.”

Xander gave her a nod and smiled, “Of course Skipper. Besides, fuzzy memories aside, I know I've always tried to keep you from being too serious about yourself. Slayer or Admiral.”

Buffy smiled thinking back to the jokes that Xander always told when they were researching or facing down the latest monster of the week in Sunnydale. When the second set of memories, those of Eliza, slid in so smoothly that she could hardly tell they were new for her, she smiled broader. Even here, there, where ever, he had served to keep her and her crew focused by not letting them become too focused on themselves or on the fear that could creep up when facing the unknown.

“Very good, see that you do that,” she said before grabbing her PADD and bringing up the files for her crew, both new and old. “Before we get to the state of the crew and our other immediate concerns, how are you both doing with all of this?” she asked her two friends.

Xander shrugged and looked at Willow, then back at Buffy, “Can't speak for anyone else, but it's a dream come true for me. Not a whole lot to adjust to since I'm still human. The idea of being up here, on a space ship, kinda wants to blow my mind out an airlock, but I'll deal.”

Buffy nodded and turned to face Willow who was looking more contemplative. Buffy was about to prompt her for an answer when the redhead finally gave one, “It's different. I can feel all these emotions roiling beneath the surface. They aren't anything new, but they are still so different, so much more powerful. It is a bit frightening. Then my other half, the Romulan me, kind of takes over, shows me how to handle it, how to focus.”

“So no problems adjusting to the new memories, and in Willow's case, being of a different species?”

Both her friends shook their heads, relieving Buffy of many of her concerns. She was sure that some small issues might crop up, but if her friends could get through this, then so could the rest of the crew. That was her hope anyways. “Good, if you do have any issues, I want you to report to Counselor Shi'por immediately, and make sure the rest of the crew does the same.”

At the silence that followed her order, Buffy looked up from her PADD at her two friends. Both looked uncomfortable and she thought she knew the reason. “Is there a problem with that, Commanders?”

Willow fidgeted slightly and Xander looked away from her before turning back to glance at Willow. The two Commanders shared a look, then Xander spoke up for the both of them, “Are we sure that is a good idea, Buffy? I mean, how can we trust a vampire to be running loose on the ship? Why is she or Spike running loose on the ship?”

Buffy knew this would come up eventually, but had hoped more immediate concerns would delay it. Realizing that wouldn't happen, she shook her head, speaking in a matter-of-fact voice, “Drusilla Shi'por and Spike are no more vampires than either of you are. Not anymore. I don't understand the why of it, but Drusilla knew this was coming, and took advantage of it from what Spike could tell me. Regardless, they are both members of this crew now, thus you would have to treat them as such.”

The “Yes, Admiral,” from Willow and “Aye aye, Skipper” from Xander that promptly followed almost had a smile coming to her lips. She fought it off and turned back to her PADD knowing that they would follow her orders. She wasn't foolish enough to not expect some arguments to break out, particularly between Xander and Spike, but for some reason, she could only silently laugh at the thought of these future exchanges

“Recommendations for the away team when we finally receive a response, Number One? You and I will be going. I imagine they will want to limit our numbers, however, so we should plan on four to six individuals, not including our shuttle pilot.”

“Why a pilot?” Xander inquired, “Why not just beam down to the location they provide? It would be quicker and we wouldn't be risking one of our shuttles.”

“It is to give them the illusion of being in control,” Willow answered before Buffy could. “If they see us come down in a shuttle, they might assume we do not have transporter technology. Even if they see through the bluff, it would still give them a feeling of control. I am sure they will believe that where ever the meeting is held, that it will be adequately shielded against us to prevent us from leaving without their permission.”

“And what are the odds of them being able to actually block our transporters?” Buffy asked Willow.

“If their technology is limited to what we know of, or even as much as 50 years more advanced than it should be--- near zero. If they did have the means to keep us on the surface, they would likely not have need of our help in defending against an orbital attack,” the Half-Romulan answered with only a moment's thought on the matter.

“Good, I wouldn't want to be the one the government decided to go all ‘alien-autopsy’ on, human or not,” Xander said.

“Capta... Buffy, what about Giles?” Willow asked softly. Buffy tilted her head curiously as Willow elaborated, “He wasn't affected by the spell, so he doesn't have the knowledge of the ship that we do. He doesn't know Starfleet regulations and has no memories of serving on the Ghost Thorn or any other Federation ship like the rest of us do.”

Buffy narrowed her eyes slightly as she watched every minuscule movement of her First Officers face, trying to understand exactly what she was getting at. “Your point is what exactly, Willow?”

With a dejected sigh, Willow looked away from Buffy, unable to hold her gaze. She turned back, though, her face molded into an unreadable mask, “What assurances do we have of his loyalty? To this ship. To its crew. To you. What would stop him from going back to the Watchers Council at the first opportunity, and informing them of all that has transpired? He could be... a security risk.”

Buffy could see how much it was costing Willow just to voice her concerns aloud. The truth was, she was right. Buffy knew she had blinded herself to that possibility the moment she brought Giles on board the Ghost Thorn while she was still in a fit of panic. Still, it pained her to think that her Watcher would ever turn on her or her friends. The thought was anathema to her.

“I don't think we have to worry about that,” Xander said, speaking up for the Watcher in question. “Giles wouldn't do anything to hurt the Buff-ster. In fact, I am sure he thinks she needs a Watcher now more than ever.”

“That is exactly what Willow is concerned about, isn't it? That Giles will think that he needs to exert even more influence over me, than he tried to do while I was the Slayer,” Buffy asked.

Willow gave a nod and answered with more conviction in her voice than before, “We know he cares about you, Buffy, but can he be trusted to be on our side of things? He's been a Watcher for a very long time. I doubt he's going to be able to accept things have to change now.”

Buffy's smile was soft but colored with a touch of regret, “Change, yes, things will change now. I don't think Giles will have much trouble with that. I've already asked him to remain on board. Not as a part of the crew, officially at least, but as an assistant and adviser. Let's face facts, we have memories of a crew that may or may not have existed before Holloween who served in Starfleet for years…decades in some cases. We, however, are still in our teens and are going to need someone who knows the ins and outs of the real world. Giles has more life experience than any of us in that instance. I'm not concerned about him giving us over to the Council, he wouldn't do that. However, if the Council comes looking for us, who better to have on our side when dealing with them, then one of their own?”

Both of her friends assented and gave their agreement with her reasoning before turning back to the concerns of the ship. They began with the state of the crew, what positions were being filled by the ships emergency holographic crewmen, and the narrowing down of personnel for the away mission to meet with the US Air Force. They were deep in discussion, ideas flowing as quickly and readily as they ever had back in the library of their now former High School when Buffy's comm chimed.

“Summers here, what is it?” She asked.

“We have received a response, Ma'am,” Oz responded from the other end of the com.

“Very good, we're on our way, Oz.”

Looking to her friends, her most Senior Officers, Buffy smiled, “Well folks, let's go see what the good people of the US Air Force have to say to us,” and led the way back to the bridge.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter may end up re-posted if my beta reader gets back to me with the edited version. Here's hoping everything is alright because Betas make everything better and I wouldn't want to lose one of my Betas.

Chapter 10

Buffy sat silently in the co-pilot's seat as the shuttle dropped down into the atmosphere. The view, more than anything, was the real reason she had wanted to take a shuttlecraft down. Certainly, it would be more impressive to simply transport down to the meeting, but she felt that with the lower level of technology available to the SGC and Earth in general that arrival by shuttlecraft would be suitably impressive while allowing her some measure of tactical control as well. Still, the view was her real reason for choosing the shuttle.

Dropping down through the sky as they were with no signs of radar picking them up served only to remind her how easily she could have hidden the Ghost Thorn if she had only been in the right state of mind when she first arrived aboard the vessel. She still had next to no memory of what occurred between her portable emitter being damaged and awakening with her own mind aboard the powerful ship. According to the ships logs, there was a span of nearly thirty minutes that she had not acted at all before she initiated the transport that had resulted in her friends and crew being trapped in the buffers. After the spell had ended there was another span of time for several hours that the logs said she was offline until she had awoken once more. This time changed forever.

'Just like everyone else,' she absently thought.

“Approach vector is clear of all air traffic, Skipper,” Amy announced from the pilot's seat.

“Of course,” Willow chirped from her seat with a small smile on her face. “They couldn't park a telescope in mid-air.”

Buffy glanced back at Willow offering her best 'We are not amused' expression, causing her first officer to simply smile sweetly. Somehow Buffy felt both reassured and mildly distressed by that smile. It was the same one her best friend had often given her through the time they had known one another. It was also the same one her first officer liked to show when she was about to dismantle an arrogant opponent during a sparring match.

“I still do not agree with your presence, Captain,” the Klingon sitting next to Willow stated with respect filling her contra-alto voice. “We know next to nothing about this SGC and it is unwise to put you in danger.”

Buffy couldn't help but smile at Andrew – No, Valkris is what she wanted to be known as – and shrug, “The risk to me is less than to the rest of the crew, Valkris. The most they could do to me is damage my mobile emitter which will simply transfer me back to the Ghost Thorn thanks to the safety protocols.”

“That is assuming they do not have the technology to force your presence,” the Klingon gave as her argument, the same one she had given during their briefing before coming down to the surface.

“The likely hood of the military of late 20th-century earth possessing such technology is so infinitesimal as to be near zero,” Lt. Levinson said calmly. “In the unlikely event that such technology exists we have the option of egress by transporter or for Ensign Madison and Master Sargent Dimm to effect extraction.”

There was a snort from farther back in the shuttle from the Master Sargent as he looked up at the Vulcan officer. “And that is why we don't let Lt.'s make the plans. Two of us even with our technology wouldn't make it inside that base without transporters. And don't misjudge the abilities and training of the Air Force. Their hand to hand and marksmanship training are both superior to anything Starfleet teaches,” the older NCO barked out. “Something I'd like to remedy once we have the time, Skipper.”

Buffy grinned and nodded, “Of course, Master Sargent. I was hoping you would make the suggestion. As for what he said about an extraction, he's completely right. The Master Sargent is not here to pull our bacon out of the fire if we end up in trouble. If trouble is found, we'll have to do the pulling ourselves. He's here to effect a distraction to that end if need be, nothing more. I doubt we'll run into any troubles, however. This General Hammond doesn't seem type from what I've seen of his service record.”

The group slowly exchanged nods with one another. Buffy knew she was right, they wouldn't see any trouble inside the mountain from the General. The files they found on some of the other government agencies, however, were another story. That was why they had settled on the away team that they had. Between herself, Willow, Lt. Vilkris, and Lt. Levinson, they had enough training to handle most any threatening situation. In terms of close quarters engagements, the three officers and herself were Buffy's big guns. If this NID she had read about wanted to try something, they could easily demonstrate how that was a poor idea. Not a very Starfleet Officer thought she knew, but a very Slayer one.

“Thirty seconds until Landing, Skipper,” Amy announced as the mountain came into view.

“Alright people, remember, we are professional, we are polite. We are, however, here to get information on an enemy threatening our home planet. We will leave with that information so we are prepared to defend it. Short of immediate threats to our persons we will not present a hostile front. Diplomacy is the key word here. And since no one can seem to keep my rank straight, stick to Skipper for crying out loud. Even I'm starting to get confused.”

The chorus of “Aye, Aye Skipper,” caused Buffy to snort lightly and shake her head.

(***)

General George Hammond had seen a great deal in his time in the Air Force. The last two years he had seen some of the most spectacular and outrageous things come to pass and he was sure the Stargate Program would continue to provide more such experiences. Today though he was looking forward to witnessing yet another unprecedented event with both a quiet excitement and a deep sense of worry.

They had made contact with the vessel in orbit far above their planet, the USS Ghost Thorn. Discovering they had made contact with a real life version of Starfleet had been mind boggling for both himself and those under his command. That they were willing to aid the Earth in defending itself from invaders from space was less shocking until the Federation's rules of non-interference had been explained to him. Ever since the Prime Directive, and he could hear the capital letters when he had been briefed, had been explained to him he had felt that seed of doubt and worry set in.

'If they are not allowed to interfere with non-warp capable civilizations then why did they even respond to us, the Commanding Officer of the SGC wondered.

Maybourne was the one that finally struck to the heart of the matter, surprisingly. With the declaration that they could not leave the vicinity of Earth or risk losing their way home the theory that the Ghost Thorn and its crew were from an alternate reality gained weight. If it was true, then they needed to be here to find a way to reverse whatever phenomenon brought them here in the first place. They were not helping out of the kindness of their hearts but because their needs aligned with those of Earth. It wasn't the most glorious motivation to attribute to their visitors but it was one that any military man could appreciate.

Yet that feeling of worry had not passed.

Maybourne stood next to him under the cover of the tunnel passageway that served as the main entrance to the Cheyenne Mountain Complex. He was a model of composure, standing at ease while they awaited the arrival of the Starfleet Admiral who had asked to meet him personally. Hammond had been genuinely surprised at the level of cooperation Maybourne had given him. The NID Colonel had been in contact with the Pentagon while Hammond had worked on getting authorization from the President. Hammond was sure that it had only been through Maybourne's efforts that a certain Senator who would remain nameless was not here at the mountain. For that alone, the General felt the younger officer deserved a medal.

A glance at his watch told George they had less than a minute before the shuttle was due to land. A small bead of sweat tried to form on his forehead and he willed it to be a figment of his imagination. Imagination struck through to reality as the sound of Maybournes cellular phone began to ring.

The Colonel gave Hammond an apologetic look before glancing at the screen of the phone and frowned. Hammond was about to ask who the call was from when the sound of jet engines rocketed over the mountain.

'Strange, I'd have thought they were advanced beyond jet propulsion,' Hammond idly noted before looking up to see two F-16's race overhead.

“What!?” The panic laced voice of Maybourne cried out next to him causing Hammond to jerk around to pay close attention to the younger man's phone call. “No, damn it! Call off the strike! That is an incoming friendly! Damn it, I don't give a fuck who ordered it!”

Maybourne listened for a few seconds before suddenly and quite violently flinging his cell phone through the air and into the tunnel wall where it promptly shattered. The Colonel closed his eyes, bending his head up as if to pray to the Almighty before exhaling a breath the General hadn't realized he had been holding.

“General, we have a problem,” He finally announced as explosions were heard in the distance.

(***)

“Look's like they sent us an escort, Skipper,” Amy blithely reported as she worked the shuttles controls. “Pair of F-16 Fighting Falcons from the look of things.”

Buffy absently nodded without concern. They had discussed the likely hood that the Air Force would send an escort as they came into the Mountain's airspace. She couldn't really blame them. The underground complex was the home of NORAD and they where a friendly yet unknown craft entering its airspace. They'd have to be insane not to have some safeguards in place, even if they would be useless.

“Skipper, we might have a problem.”

Amy's voice cut through Buffy's thoughts. The sudden concern in her tone was enough for the Starfleet Admiral in her to sit up and take notice in an instant as she started looking over the controls herself.

“Why does it look like those planes are on an attack vector,” Buffy muttered right before Amy announced, “We've been targeted, Skipper, beginning evasive maneuvers, raising shields.”

The words barely escaped the young pilot's lips before their sensors detected the release of four missiles, two per plane. It was obvious almost instantly that the shuttle was the target. Cursing whatever idiots had sent these two planes and their pilots to what could easily be their death, Buffy's hands flew over the co-pilot's controls.

“Ignore the missiles, they won't be able to penetrate our shields. As soon as they detonate maneuver us to a least-time trajectory for open space, maximum speed,” Buffy barked out. “Hopefully, we can dupe them into thinking their little ambush worked.”

Amy nodded as she held her course level, flying almost directly into the four sidewinder missiles that had been launched at them. As the fireball consumed the shuttle, Amy's fingers danced over the controls forcing the small gray vessel to suddenly jerk around as its course drastically altered and they made for the stratosphere.

“Both fighters broke off once their missiles detonated, Skipper. I'd lay odds they were not in a position to visually verify a kill shot and with our shields up they have no means of detecting the shuttle other than a visual sighting,” Amy reported as blue skies gave way to the dark black of space.

“Good, that should give them a few moments to think they succeeded at whatever idiocy it was they were planning,” Buffy muttered as she spun and rose out of the co-pilot's seat. “Commander,” she started as she moved towards the back of the shuttle, “Please take over as co-pilot's. I'm going to take the express route back to the Ghost Thorn.”

Willow moved up to take the vacated position then glanced back at her friend and CO. “Not going to do something stupid, are you, Skipper?”

Buffy grinned at Willow and shrugged and asked, “Now would I ever do something stupid, Commander?” With a wink, Buffy deactivated her mobile emitter, which Lt. Levinson quickly reached out and caught as it fell through the now open space.

“That's what I was afraid of,” Willow commented as she turned to the controls. “Alright. Get us home before the Skipper decides to take over the world, Ensign.”

“Yes, Ma'am,” Amy answered and turned the shuttle towards the waiting Ghost Thorn.

(***)

It was a pissed off Slayer that reintegrated with the Ghost Thorn's systems. She knew that what she intended to do would send chills down her fellow flag officers spines and put the diplomatic core into a frenzy like no other. Her plans violated several regulations when it came to interacting with a pre-warp culture, not to mention could be construed as an act of war. If she actually thought she would ever end up in the universe her alternate was from she'd be much less likely to carry out her intended plan.

'Okay, about 20% less likely,' she realized as her consciousness sunk deeper into the ships computer than was usual for her.

Buffy moved through the programming that comprised her own systems as well as the ships, ignoring them for the time being. What she wanted to do did not need phasers or torpedoes. Those she would have to give the order to fire on the bridge anyways, or physically enter the commands herself. Neither Starfleet or herself had been nieve when they integrated her into her ship. Weapons control was one of the systems she had no direct control over via her virtual systems. She could only operate them as well as several other key systems manually just as any other crew member.

There was one system though that she was completely and fully integrated with. Her ability to interface with this one system was superior in every way to her capabilities with the rest of the ship for the simple reason that it had been built for her. From the ground up it had been designed around the idea of having a synthetic intelligence operate and control it. It was so deeply ingrained in the design philosophy that no biological entity could operate it. They couldn't think fast enough. Not even Data could operate her system without a direct link to his positronic brain being in place. For Buffy, that link was there all the time, she just had to reach for it.

As she accessed her link a grim smile crept across her virtual lips. Once the system was up and running it took less than 100 nanoseconds to find what she was looking for, one of the communication satellites in orbit above Earth. From there it took another 386 nanoseconds to analyze and break the encryption. After that, the universe's most powerful electronic warfare suite, powered by a synthetic intelligence capable of thinking as flexibly as a human and with all the speed of a Starfleet main computer core gained access to every single piece of digitally stored information on the planet that had remote access. If it was not on a completely closed network, it was hers.

Buffy's virtual smile would have made even Maybourne nervous.

(***)

It had been a little over 20 minutes since the unprovoked attack on the Starfleet shuttle as it had been coming in to land at Cheyenne Mountain. The SGC was a cacophony of voices and ringing telephones as Maybourne drove the people beneath him to find out what in the hell had just happened and who was responsible. He had already dispatched four SG teams to comb the ground in the general area of the attack in the hopes they could at least offer medical aid to any who survived the ambush.

Hammond had retreated into his office to call the White House almost immediately after the attack, trusting in Maybourne to get the information they needed. Another message had already been composed and sent, apologizing to Admiral Summers' crew for the attack on their CO's shuttle. No one knew for certain if the vessel that had caused so much commotion since it's appearance received the desperate apology since less than three minutes after the attack they had lost sight of the ship. The Ghost Thorn had simply vanished and they had yet to require a visual on the ship.

Informing the President that someone in his armed forces had ordered a strike against a potential ally had been the low point of all this. Yes, the President understood he was not responsible for the order that led to the attack. He did hold Hammond responsible for getting the cooperation of the Starfleet personnel regardless of what happened.

Hammond had just hung up the phone, silently wondering how quickly he could put in paperwork to retire when there was a knock on his office door. “Enter,” he called out as he dug for his antacid tablets in his desk drawers.

“General, they made contact... sort of,” Maybourne said with a look between confused, angry, and terrified.

“Sort of? Tell me, Colonel, how does a technologically superior group sort of make contact?” Hammond asked a frustration he rarely felt except in the presence of Jack O'Neill building in him.

“Apparently, they do it by hacking our security systems and piggybacking our own security feeds onto every known broadcast network in the country, Sir.”

The announcement of what was done caused Hammond to freeze in place. Several seconds went by before he could bring himself to ask, “You mean to tell me that they have access to our security systems at the Pentagon and who knows where else?”

“Yes, Sir,” Maybourne answered, the indignation of what had happened clear on his face. “Currently, they are broadcasting a looped video from the White House security cameras. It.. well... it isn't very flattering to the President, Sir. Included in the video are subtitles that continuously scroll across the screen.”

“I'm afraid to ask,” General Hammond replied with a sigh. “What do the subtitles say?”

“Aren't you glad we are not your enemy? You have 24 hours to arrest the Senator.”

General Hammond forced himself not to slouch in his chair as he let out another sigh of resignation. “I'll inform the President. The message doesn't say which Senator was responsible, does it?”

“No, Sir, I'm afraid they are going to leave that to us to discover. Not that it isn't obvious,” Maybourne answered with his own frustration coming out in the growling undertones of his voice.

(***)

Buffy opened her eyes, the predatory smile that had graced her lips during her hack of the US Government still firmly in place. Leaning back in her chair she thought about the information she had gained before tapping her comlink. “Commander, please gather the senior staff in the conference room.”

“Yes, Skipper,” Willow answered before the comlink went quiet again.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sadly my original Beta has been out of contact with me. Heard from 'em via a comment on Chapter 10 but then communications went silent once more. So if you are out there let me know.
> 
> In the mean time Chadmaako, my Beta for my Sunnydale Mutations series has stepped up to the plate in the meantime. As with any of my works I would be no where without both my beta readers and brainstorming partners. Thanks much for helping me do my best at telling these stories!

To say she was irritated would be the understatement of the century. Furious. Irate. Ballistic. Pissed. Those might come close to what Buffy Summers, impromptu Admiral and suddenly synthetic life form was feeling. Also, a thrill that she knew came from the original half of her now synthetic soul. The Slayer half. The thrill of the hunt. Of knowing her prey would prove worthy of her skills.

 

One by one the senior staff entered Conference Room One to join her at the table. As each of the Ghost Thorn's most senior crew members took their seats she calmly assessed them. Concern, a little anger over the unprovoked attack, and a lot of curiosity were spread among the faces of those she was going to have to rely on in the coming days. What she didn't see was fear or uncertainty. It was a little surprising as she knew Velkris and Levinson were not the only people new to this saving the world gig they had all suddenly found themselves a part of. What they were used to, however, was living in Sunnydale where you had to be made of sterner stuff than most anywhere else in the world or you would soon find yourself something else's meal.

 

“You have all read over the evidence I managed to pull from their computer systems?” Buffy asked as they all turned to her to begin the briefing. “Questions?”

 

“If you don't mind, Skipper, I'd like to poke the elephant in the room,” her Head of Security said looking a touch uncomfortable. With a nod from her, he straightened up and scrolled through some of the information on his PADD before continuing. “There are a lot of classified documents here from the US government. Classified Documents that we would have had to do a much more invasive search of their computer systems to get, Skipper. Combined with your rather blatant message to the SGC and the US Government in general, I have to ask two things. What are your intentions, Skipper? And does this not violate every one of the regulations concerning contact with a pre-warp civilization Starfleet has?”

 

Buffy stood up, thankful that her top didn't constantly pull up on her the way her memories insisted it did on Picard. She honestly hadn't expected it to be Xander to question her ethics and intentions. He had been with her long enough to know that the Ghost Thorn didn't abide by the same rules standard Federation ships did. She was a Section 31 ship and black ops that broke all the rules was routine for her and her crew. Stopping to look at her 2nd in command caused her to smile as she realized he hadn't forgotten that. But not everyone was used to playing so fast and loose with Starfleet Regulations as they were.

 

“My intention is to put a stop to rebel forces within the borders of a potential ally, Lieutenant Commander. We were attacked in a manner consistent with an act of war. We can either accept that declaration as coming from the United States, cripple their government, and put in place leaders that we can trust; or we can accept that the actions came from a rogue faction after our potential ally invited us to meet and negotiate an alliance,” she said looking across the table at the faces of each of her Senior Staff.

 

“Earth is not currently warp capable, this is true. However, I am sure each of us has considered the name of the military group that contacted us. Stargate Command. The name itself is telling. They have some means of interplanetary travel. A means that our experiences, both sets of experiences, tell us shouldn't be possible during this period in history, whatever it is. So how Federation regulations apply to this situation are fuzzy, to begin with,” she continued before sitting back down. With an unneeded simulated breath, she pushed on, wanting to make sure her Senior Staff understood what she was going to explain to them.

 

“All of that aside, two simple facts remain that we must keep in mind at all times. First, the Ghost Thorn itself is not a part of the standard Starfleet order of battle. We are a Section 31 vessel. Our rules of engagement as well as a hundred other little things differ from what a standard Starfleet vessel operates under. That does not mean we are undisciplined or undedicated to the principles of Starfleet, it just means we have a bit more leeway in interpreting just how best to preserve those principles,” she said carefully measuring each of her crew members expressions. “Secondly, for all intents and purposes, We. Are. Starfleet. There is no going home, as we are home. That is our earth down there, despite what one-half of our memories tell us. That means, going forward we are the ones who set the standards. And while diplomacy is a tried and true method of Starfleet that I would never propose we abandon, at the heart of it all we are soldiers. The Dominion War taught us that we can be as diplomatic as we want; so long as we can back it up with enough firepower to ensure the other guy doesn't get stupid. Right now, we are making sure the other guy understands the cost of getting stupid.”

 

“Now, let's get to work people. I gave them twenty-four hours to arrest the good Senator. I want to be sure we have all of our evidence and reasons behind that demand laid out when we make contact again.”

 

And with that, her Senior staff started to debate and discuss the evidence. Xander gave her a glance, a small smile on his face. She returned the smile with a nod before tuning into the discussion. It was going to be a long night before they were prepared to face the enemy.

 

(***)

 

General Hammond didn't know whether to crow in glee or reach for his antacids. Their encryption experts had gone through every single frame of footage that their potential allies had broadcast and discovered a veritable gold mine. Hidden within the video feeds they discovered one of the most advanced forms of steganography anyone had ever seen. It was so advanced that they had only cracked a small percentage of the available data. What they had discovered was extremely good news for the SGC and very bad news for the NID and their congressional champion, Senator Kinsey.

 

The problem was, the information had all been provided to them by a third party. That had the Senator and his attorney screaming murder about the legitimacy of the evidence that was quickly piling up against both him and the NID. That their claims of falsified evidence, attempts by a foreign power to manipulate the US government, blackmail by the same foreign power, as well as a list of other transgressions they were attempting to heap upon Admiral Summers were actually being believed by many in the DOD and DOJ was only making the situation that much more of a nightmare for the SGC Commanding Officer.

 

“I don't know what else we can do at this point, General,” Colonel Maybourne said from the other side of the General's desk. “As much as I agree with you that Kinsey is an asshole of the first degree, him ordering the strike doesn't make a whole lot of sense and we have yet to find any evidence that wasn't provided to us by our visitors that show he was involved.”

 

Hammond glared at the Colonel then reached into his desk for his antacids. Popping two into his mouth he quickly swallowed them and returned the bottle to its place. “You and I both know he is doing everything he can to stall the investigation we attempted to launch against him after the incident, Colonel. By the time we can even get forensic personnel to examine his computers he'll have destroyed them or had them wiped clean.”

 

Maybourne shrugged his shoulders giving the SGC's commander a look of apology. “What else can we do? It is his right to fight against the search and seizure of his property. For what it's worth, I think he's up to this to his eyeballs. I just don't think he's involved how you think.” With a sigh Maybourne leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Look at it this way General, what does Kinsey gain from attempting to shoot down our visitors? Tech? Kind of hard to recreate it from scorched rubble. Allies? Not likely after we fired upon them? A shot at their ship? Doubtful considering they should be capable of interplanetary travel at the very least. They could run rings around anything we could send up. No, it makes no kind of sense at all for Kinsey to order our people to fire upon them. It would have been smarter to let them land, get them in the SGC, then send NID agents to arrest and interrogate them. At least then we would have had the shuttle and their personnel. This route? We lost everything.”

 

“I agree, son,” Hammond said tersely. “Yet, the evidence that we were basically handed on a silver platter clearly shows he was responsible. And with no space born assets of our own, those people are our only real hope against the Goa'uld and you know it.” As Maybourne started to contradict him, Hammond waved him off. “I heard about your Goa'uld busters, Maybourne, and I doubt they will do any good. The Goa'uld use directed plasma weapons for space combat. Somehow, I doubt one of our modified ballistic missiles will awe them a great deal. If it doesn't get shot out of the sky I doubt it will do much to their shields.”

 

“I know, sir,” Maybourne finally admitted after several tense moments of silence. “I hate admitting that, but I do. The problem is that no one else will admit it and you know it. So the question is, what do we do in the meantime? I don't see Kinsey allowing himself to be arrested no matter what is at stake. Our friends in the sky want him arrested. There aren't a whole lot of options here.”

 

“Then maybe it is time we made our own options, Colonel,” the General said as an idea took root in his mind.

 

(***)

 

“Jack, we're coming out of hyperspace.”

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always thank you to my editing and support peoples! Without you this story wouldn't be nearly as good! And thank you to my readers who waited patiently for me to resume this story!

“Take us to red alert, all hands report to battle stations,” Came Buffy's voice as she and several of the ships most senior officers exited the turbo lift onto the bridge. They had been in the middle of a briefing on how to handle the Kinsey situation when the Ensign on Watch Duty had alerted her to a vessel exiting from some form of subspace distortion at the outermost edge of the solar system. That it had managed to get that close without tripping sensors was disturbing. “Lieutenant Levinson, how did our probes not detect them inbound?”

 

The newly created Vulcan was bent over several displays at the ships science station. His eyes never lifted from following the data that continuously scrolled across them as he answered her, “Their method of faster than light travel has not been previously recorded by the Federation, Skipper. It is similar to borg trans-warp but appears to function according to its own separate theories and in an energy range we would not expect to see in an FTL configuration.”

 

“What can we do to ensure they cannot sneak up on us again, Lieutenant,” Willow asked as she took her place on the bridge.

 

“I have already made the appropriate adjustments, Commander. It was a simple recalibration of the sensor's identification protocols. We will need to do a complete update to the software to extend detection range to what we are used to but we will not be caught completely unawares in the meantime,” he promptly answered her.

 

Satisfied, Buffy nodded before turning to Xander who sat opposite of Willow in the three seat command platform. “Xander, have they shown any signs of noticing us?”

 

Xander spun the Command Tactical Display around into his lap. It was one of the design changes that the Ghost Thorn had benefited from. Tactical was no longer directly behind the Captain's chair where communication could be difficult. Instead, the raised command dais had been reconfigured slightly. To Buffy's right sat Willow, her station facing out towards the edges of the bridge but angled so she could easily see the forward view screen. Her console allowed her to view the status of any portion of the ship's systems, including Buffy's. Willow could, with a few simple commands take control of virtually any facet of the ship should personnel be injured or the primary station damaged.

 

Opposite her, on Buffy's left, was the new tactical station. It was positioned similarly to Willow's allowing the Captain and the tactical officer to converse face to face without requiring more than a turn of the head. It also allowed the tactical officer to sit and do their job; a small compensation that Buffy's Eliza memories recalled Xander praising her foresight for ensuring.

 

“No, Skipper,” Xander reported. “Stealth systems are reporting nominal. All sensor sweeps done by the enemy ship are being neutralized.” He glanced over to her as a grin started to spread across his lips. “They can't see us Captain and once we engage the regenerative armor the odds of one of them picking us out of open space with their naked eye is basically zero.”

 

Buffy met her Security/Tactical officer's primal grin with one of her own before turning back to face the forward view screen. “Recommendations?” She asked almost casually.

 

“Despite the enemy outnumbering us two to one, we are the superior force, Skipper,” Jonathon offered from his post. “Logic would dictate they would withdraw from combat should we make the demand.”

 

Willow shook her head in disagreement as she looked over the sensor readings on their two new arrivals. “That is assuming they could tell the difference between our level of capabilities, Lieutenant. We should use our advantages and demonstrate why it is a mistake to attack Earth,” she said with a glance towards Buffy. For that moment she almost forgot that this was her Willow, her friend for the past year since she had arrived in Sunnydale. The near feral smile and predatory glint in her eyes was nothing like the Willow she could remember. It was pure Romulan. “We have the advantage of surprise as well as firepower. Why relinquish either? Move in under silent run conditions then launch a surprise attack. Both vessels could be destroyed before they knew they were under attack, Skipper.”

 

As the suggestion was made, Buffy felt something come to life in her programming. Something she had not felt since awakening as a being of electrons and light. The urge, the drive to hunt. To bring her enemies to their knees for daring to transgress against that which she defended. Yes, she had found a certain vindictive glee while going about stage one of resolving the Kinsey dilemma but it had been nothing like this. Nowhere near as primal. She knew she had felt it before in the dark and lonely nights of patrol.

 

'Odd,' Buffy thought, wondering how whatever made her the Slayer had managed to transcend from a biological host to a digital one. She would have thought it ridiculous if not for Moloch the previous school year. Shrugging off any concerns she nodded at her first officer, “Make it so, Number One. Avoid utilizing the multi-vector-assault-mode. We barely have enough crew to fight the ship without splitting them further.”

 

“Aye aye, Skipper,” Willow replied as she started keying in orders to the various weapons stations. “Ops, prepare for silent running. Helm, plot an intercept course just past Jupiter based on their acceleration. Tactical, deploy regenerative armor in its stealth configuration.”

 

A chorus of, “Aye aye,” was the only reply any of them needed to give as they set to work.

 

The stealth configuration for the Ghost Thorn wasn't much different than it's normal operating standards. The hull was already crafted from materials designed to absorb rather than reflect most known scanning technologies. The regenerative armor's stealth configuration simply used these same materials when deploying. It was slightly less dense, and thus offered less protection than the standard configuration but it was a secondary defense behind the ships shields. The impulse drives underwent what was perhaps the most radical change in operating procedures. The key to maintaining stealth while under impulse power turned out to lay not in changing how impulse theory worked but in changing how much work the engine was expected to do.

 

Impulse engines functioned like a standard fusion rocket which Einsteinian physics proved was insufficient to achieve near light speed velocities. Federation impulse engines circumvented this thanks to their space-time driver coils. The coil allowed the impulse engine to achieve the necessary acceleration by generating a sub-warp Cochrane field around the ship to reduce its mass. The Ghost Thorn, being a combat vessel already had the most advanced version of this coil as part of her engines allowing her to match and even exceed the previous record holder for acceleration under impulse drive; a refitted Constitution Class ship that had once been under the command of the legendary James T. Kirk.

 

The Ghost Thorn's space-time driver coil was different, though. Engineers had finally figured out how to actually surpass the speeds allowed previously by reducing the mass of the ship to near zero. The drawback was a combination of power requirements and stability. Thus the newer driver coils had never seen mass production. The Ghost Thorn had a trick up its sleeve that other Starfleet vessels didn't. Multiple warp cores. When the Ghost Thorn when into stealth operation, its secondary warp core was brought online and kept at minimal power. Considering the vast power output of the matter/antimatter engines this was still more than enough to boost the driver coil of the Ghost Thorn into its stealth configuration, thus allowing it to maintain acceleration with a much-reduced output of detectable energy. Shielding and heat sinks managed the rest, keeping both the telltale impulse signature nearly undetectable as well as the warp cores.

 

As systems came online, the Ghost Thorn's impulse engines accelerated them away, the vessel reaching 25% c within seconds.

 

“Let's go teach these parasites why the Borg learned to fear the Federation,” Buffy said as the ship shot off into the black between the planets.

 

(***)

 

“General, we have new intelligence,” came from Hammonds office door.

 

Looking up he saw Siler holding a printout, a grim look plastered on his face. It wasn't often that the NCO allowed his feelings to show so blatantly. Most times he kept a rather stoic facade in place even during some of the most hair-raising events the SGC had encountered since full-time operation had started. Whatever it was they had learned, it wasn't good.

 

“What do you have for us, Master Sergeant?” he asked as he held out his hand for the printout. He watched Maybourne take a copy of the same printout after him and begin scanning it as well. Hammond had worked with the Master Sergeant long enough to know that if he was coming in personally to hand deliver the information, it was urgent.

 

“Long range satellites have detected two inbound ships at the extreme edge of our solar system. We believe it to be Apophis, Sir,” the NCO reported crisply.

 

“Damn it,” Hammond muttered as he glanced down at the printout. “No word from our missing visitors?”

 

Siler gave a short, “No, Sir,” as a reply causing Hammond to nearly curse aloud. They had not gotten the chance yet to inform them of the likely hood of SG1 being aboard one of the inbound vessels. Now, with the enemy entering their solar system and no secure means of communication with the seemingly vanished ship it didn't look like they would get the chance.

 

“SG1, Sir,” Maybourne prompted with a glance. Hammond could only nod as his mind ran through every potential possibility they had for contacting the Federation ship and alerting them to the presence of friendlies on board the incoming hostile vessels. Maybourne, seeing the look of concentration on the General's face cleared his throat to get his attention. When he knew he had it he gave him a small smile before he spoke. “You're worried about contacting the Ghost Thorn. If we knew where they were we could broadcast a tight beam transmission, but without knowing where they are all we could attempt is a broad range transmission and hope they got it. The problem is that if we do that, Apophis will have a chance to intercept the transmission, potentially giving away SG1's presence if they haven't been discovered yet and alerting them to the fact we have allies in the area.”

 

Hammond nodded in acknowledgment, “Yes, Colonel, that is the long and short of it. We could send an encoded message and be reasonably certain the Ghost Thorn could readily decode it, but the same could be true of Apophis.”

 

Maybourne's smile stretched a little further as he said, “Sir, I might have a solution to our problems. We just have to hope the universe they come from is enough like what we know that they will understand us.”

 

(***)

 

“Skipper,” Oz said from his post at Ops, “we are picking up an unusual broadcast from earth.”

 

Buffy tilted her head and raised one eyebrow in curiosity. “Is it from the SGC?”

 

“I'm not sure, Ma'am. It is being broadcast on standard frequencies for late 20th-century television broadcasts as well as all AM and FM frequencies,” her Ops officer reported.

 

“Put it on screen, Lieutenant,” she ordered growing ever more curious. The SGC had not stopped broadcasting in their attempts to re-establish contact with them after the incident during their atmospheric approach until just after the Goa'uld vessels had entered the system. She thought it would be the height of arrogance for them to broadcast anything tactically important on an open channel with the enemy at their doorstep but she couldn't ignore what was essentially the SGC screaming into the dark to get their attention.

 

When the broadcast came on screen she watched in morbid fascination. She had read the reports. All senior command staff had. His exploits were basically required reading at the Academy these days alongside other greats. But to see it enacted before her very eyes for the first time drove home just how far from where both of their halves had started they were. After a few minutes of the broadcast, it looped and replayed itself just as had been done with the first contact message the SGC had sent out to them.

 

The message penetrated Xander's brain first causing him to snort. This, in turn, drew the attention of everyone on the bridge as he started to snicker. A short aborted chuckle across the bridge from Lieutenant Levinson indicated the Vulcan was the second to understand. From there it was a cascade effect as each of the bridge crew suddenly realized the message and the brilliance in how it was delivered to them.

 

“Alright, it looks like they have friends out there on those ships,” Buffy told her crew. “They tried to pull the sacrificial play to stop this. So we need a new plan. Willow, I want you to get with Valkris and the Master Sergeant, they are our boarding experts. Set out a plan to board and rescue friendly forces from at least one of those ships as well as a means to identify and locate them.”

 

“Aye aye, Skipper,” Willow said as she vacated her station heading for the turbo lift.

 

Buffy returned her attention to the main view screen for a moment before ordering, “Cut transmission. Back to work people, we have some snakes to educate.”

 

The crew of the USS Ghost Thorn went back to work. The view screen quickly returned to showing the black of space, taking with it the image of an event that was history for all of the crew: Captain James Tiberius Kirk saying his last farewell to Spock inside the warp core chamber of the USS Enterprise.

 

'You got Spock back, James,' Buffy thought as she watched the planets move past on the view screen. 'We'll get these people back too.'

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you to Chadmaako for being my beta and MeJA for brainstorming with me. Without you both this story wouldn't have been wrote.

Valkris stood watching the marines preparing their gear. Her body was tense and rigid as she looked on at the men and women donning the hard shell Federation tactical uniform. It was the most advanced personal armor available in the Alpha Quadrant and something that she knew her Klingon half had greatly appreciated the first time she had worn it into battle during the Dominion Wars. Now as she watched those that would be placed under her command for the upcoming boarding action she could feel only fear. Fear that she would do something to cause one of these brave men and women their lives.

 

“You need to relax, L.T.,” Master Sergeant Samuel Frakes said as he stood alongside her. “They all know what they are doing. Better than half of them served back home before this mess. The others have their Starfleet training to fall back on. They'll get the job done.”

 

Valkris exhaled as she shifted her eyes to the side to take in the Master Sergeant. His helmet was nestled in the crook of his arm, his phaser rifle slung over his shoulder as he watched the Marines gear up. A light peppering of gray adorned his hair giving him a seasoned look, but didn’t draw from his rather plain yet still attractive features.

 

“It's not them I'm concerned about, Master Sergeant,” Valkris admitted as her eyes slid back over the troops. “It's me. Before this mess...”

 

“Was before this mess, L.T.,” the Master Sergeant said, interrupting her. “Simple fact of the matter is before this mess not even the Skipper would have been fit to command this ship. Don't care what she accomplished on the ground. She was one hell of a fighter, saved my life once in fact. I'd never call her military material or fit to be a commander in the same, though. Now? There isn't anyone's ship I'd rather serve aboard.”

 

The Master Sergeant turned to face Valkris more fully, his face a mask of determination without any accompanying emotions. “The thing you need to ask yourself, L.T., is this; Are you fit to command these troops? Whatever the hell went on before this mess is exactly that. Before. Now, are you some fucking crybaby coward that's gonna hide in her quarters while the real men and women go out to fight and possibly die?”

 

Valkris snarled, her hand lashing out before she could control the almost automatic response to someone questioning her honor. Before she blinked, the Master Sergeant hung in the air, back pressed against one of the bulkheads and dangling from the hand that had wrapped itself firmly around his throat.

 

Instead of the fear or possibly anger, she would have expected there was only an amused smile on the Master Sergeant's lips. “That answers that, don’t it?” He asked her. As she dropped him to his feet he nodded to her and started to head towards the gathered Marines. He called back over his shoulder, “Yep, there's the Klingon in you. Keep hold of that L.T., I think we're going to need some good old fashioned Klingon rage to get us through this.”

 

Valkris shook her head, her own toothy grin taking its place on her lips.

 

(***)

 

Buffy smiled as she watched the forward view screen. In the time it had taken them to get into position for their ambush the two alien vessels had barely made it to Saturn. Relying on only passive sensor readings to get the needed intel to flesh out what they had learned from her dive into Earth's computers was slow work but in the end it was worth it. It wouldn't do to alert their enemies to their presence early after all.

 

From what they had ascertained, each of the ships was equipped with sixty plasma canons that were outdated by Federation standards. The design was similar to some of the early space capable weapons Earth had used prior to the formation of the Federation of Planets but had nothing on the particle beam based weapons they had adopted centuries ago. Their shields surprisingly raised even this far out from Earth, were more advanced, but nothing compared to what the Federation used for their combat vessels. Even the most basic Oberth class science ships of the Federation had better shielding. The shields used by the Goa'uld were easily 150 years or more out of date, possibly more. Compared to the Ghost Thorn, they might as well have covered themselves in aluminum foil.

 

What they hadn't been able to ascertain for certain is if the ships were simply moving so slow due to it being their best speed, or if they just didn't care. The two vessels had barely reached 5% c since exiting hyperspace, a fraction of what a Federation vessel achieved under full impulse. Buffy understood the need to avoid traveling too fast in normal space, relativity could play havoc with an unprepared vessel, but the Federation had long ago learned to compensate rather well for that. If 5% c was their top speed, the Ghost Thorn's 25% c would allow them to dance rings around the two ships.

 

“Valkris to the Bridge,” the Klingon's voice came over the inter-ship com system, “Skipper, the assault force is ready to crush the BiHnuch and his minions.”

 

 

Buffy's smile grew. Andrew may have turned into a Klingon, but she was still the same eager to prove herself geek as before. “Acknowledged. This is Summers to Raptor 1 and Raptor 2, you are cleared for launch. Xander, target the FTL engines of both ships. Phaser banks only. I want both of those ships incapable of escaping, not turned into a debris field.”

 

“Aye aye, Skipper,” Xander replied from his station. Based on the reading they’d gotten early on, the advanced Starfleet computer had little trouble isolating the needed systems of the seemingly archaic vessels. Fingers glided over the console as he locked onto what their sensors had identified as the ships’ FTL plants. Carefully setting the type 12 phaser banks to only 40% power to avoid simply destroying the vessels, he opened fire.

 

Red beams of highly accelerated particles lanced forward slamming into the shields of both ships. On the forward screen, the shields of the enemy vessels flared to life beneath their assault. Buffy would have preferred to simply wipe them from space with a spread of quantum torpedos each, but with the assault turning into a rescue mission, that plan had to be scrapped. That they didn't know nor had been able to discern which ship the SGC's missing personnel were on only complicated matters.

 

In the end, it had been decided to utilize the two assault shuttles sitting in the hanger bays of the Ghost Thorn. Based on the design of the Delta Flyer and upgraded with much of the same technology as the Ghost Thorn herself, each of the small craft were the epitome of space born marine transport. Yes, the Federation relied on transporter technology a great deal but Section 31 had learned their lessons over the years. So the two prototype assault shuttles had been included in the Ghost Thorn's standard arsenal.

 

The plan was for the Ghost Thorn to disable the two larger ships during a sneak attack while Raptor 1 and Raptor 2 launched. Once the enemy's shields were down, the assault shuttles would board the ships and seek out the SGC's personnel. Not knowing who they were looking for would slow the assault force down, but it was the best plan they had been able to come up with.

 

As the first battery of phaser fire ceased Buffy was about to ask for the status of the enemy vessels when an explosion filled the forward view screen. One of the two ships suddenly rocked sideways under the blast, a large hole in the side of its hull appearing.

 

“Xander, what happened?” Buffy snapped out rapidly. “I thought we had determined that destroying the FTL engines wouldn't cause a detonation of the ship.”

 

“It didn't, Skipper,” he answered back. “The explosion came from the interior of the ship. Judging by the blast pattern and the damage it looks like someone detonated the power core of the enemy ship from inside. They're dead in space.”

 

“Skipper, we are picking up a radio transmission on one of the frequencies the SGC uses and it matches known US Military encryption,” Oz reported from the ops station in front of Buffy.

 

Willow's eyes widened as she glanced at her captain, “Buffy, there's only one group of people that would be transmitting on those frequencies.”

 

Buffy's concerned look faded as she started to smile. “Raptor 2, this is Ghost Thorn, break off approach and join Raptor 1. We've located the SGC team. Oz, open communications on that frequency.”

 

(***)

 

O'Niell had not been having a good day. First, he had disobeyed the direct orders of his CO. He wasn't too worried about that. If the Earth was still spinning after all of this, they could haul him in front of a Court Martial for all he cared, but if Apophis had his way there wouldn't be much of an Earth left to do so. Then he and Teal'c had tried to rescue Skaara only to end up captured. The Spacemonkey and Carter had managed to rescue them only for all of them to end up captured.

 

Then Bra'tac had shown up. It was the first bit of goodness that had occurred since they had started this ill-begotten attempt to save their world. The elder Jaffa had been a bit put off that his own plan to sow dissent among Klorel and Apophis had been put to pasture but quickly started to adjust his own plans to account for SG1. His team had moved quickly to the primary power plant and placed their C4.

 

They had been on their way to the Shield generators for the second part of their sabotage plan when they ran into the Jaffa; literally ran into them. The fight hadn't lasted more than two minutes and the group of six Jaffa where on the ground, dead or unconscious.

 

Two minutes was enough to alert the rest of the Jaffa that their prisoners had escaped.

 

They had been pinned down in one of the many hallways of the Goa'uld mother ship when O'Neill's day decided that bad just wouldn't do. Instead, it had decided that weird is what it wanted to be remembered as and promptly slapped O'Niell with the weirdest stick it could manage. That was Jack's assessment at any rate.

 

“Carter, do you see what I see?” Jack asked as he glanced once more out one of the numerous windows along the corridor they were stuck in. Beyond the heavy glass was a sleek black ship that almost blended in with space. He didn't think he would have spotted it if it wasn't for the blue glow running along four semi-cylindrical protrusions along the back half of it. While he hadn't ever seen a ship with this exact configuration, the overall design screamed at him.

 

The ship was clearly composed of three portions. The forward hull was vaguely triangular, only instead of harsh edges it was rounded and swept back. It spoke of an elegance of design and someone who saw speed as more than simply a set of numbers. They saw it as an art form in and of itself. The rear half of the ship was flatter, more rectangular as it flowed away from that forward section. It would have been out of place if not for the four semi-cylindrical protrusions that extended out from it to create the final part of the puzzle that was the ship. They were in a configuration not unlike that of an X-wing's wings from Starwars. It was not something he had seen before in a ship the size and configuration of the one he was now looking at. Still, the overall shape combined with those four unmistakable shapes coming out from behind it spoke of only one thing.

 

Star Trek.

 

'That's not possible,' his brain informed him.

 

The Federation.

 

'You've been drugged. It's the only explanation,' he tried to insist to himself once more.

 

Starfleet.

 

'Insanity. It's the only explanation. You have finally gone around the bend old man,' he thought, berating himself.

 

Hope.

 

“Colonel?” Carter asked before turning to take a quick glance out the window herself then gasped. “Colonel is that...?”

 

Incoming fire from the Jaffa redirected their attention back on the firefight in front of them and off of the inexplicable ship hanging in space. When a red glow lit up the room from the windows, O'Neill decided weird was okay by him. Much better than bad at least.

 

“Carter, blow the C4,” he ordered as he ducked back under cover and fumbled with his radio.

 

“What are you doing, O'Niell? If we detonate the ship now, it will only doom your planet faster,” Bra'tac demanded from across the hall.

 

“I do not think that is a problem any longer, Master Bra'tac,” Teal'c said as he pointed to the window. “I believe help has arrived.”

 

“Oh my...,” Jackson mumbled as he got his own first glimpse of what had suddenly prompted Jack to throw away their plan. “Is that?”

 

“I don't know, Spacemonkey, and I don't care. They're firing on the snakes and that's good enough for me. Carter, blow it,” he ordered again.

 

Samantha Carter fished out the detonator for the C4 charges, her mind running through the possibilities that the arrival of the unknown ship could herald. As she pushed the button and explosions rocked the ship she could hear O'Niell talking into his radio.

 

“This is Colonel Jack O'Niell of Stargate Command. Does anyone read me? We have detonated C4 in the main engine room of the ship we are aboard and request extraction. I repeat, this is Colonel Jack O'Niell of Stargate Command. Does anyone read me?”

 

(***)

 

Valkris smiled as the orders for Raptor 1 and Raptor 2 to converge on the wounded ship came over their comms. The once high school nerd felt the thrill of battle run up and down her spine. Her fists clenched and relaxed repeatedly. She knew that before the events that had occurred so recently yet an eternity ago that she wouldn't have had the courage to do what she was about to do. Now, she relished the opportunity.

 

After the Skipper was done altering their orders, Valkris flicked on her communication badge to the command channel. The only person able to access it besides her nominally was the Master Sergeant. If the biometrics of one of them went dead, access to the channel would be automatically transferred to the next in command for that fire team.

 

“Master Sergeant, patch in your team to the command channel. Reception only,” she ordered the older hand. When she got confirmation that her order had been followed she steeled herself for what was to come and addressed the short squad under her command.

 

“Listen up,” she started, her growling voice still slightly surprising even herself when she spoke. “We are about to board a vessel that sensors tell us holds nearly two thousand individuals. That is thirty times as many bodies as our own ship when fully crewed. It might seem impossible.”

 

Valkris paused as she looked at the men and women that made up her half of the assault force. With a breath, she continued on, “But we need not fear our enemies. Like the Rebels who struck against the Empire and destroyed the Death Star, not once but twice; like Gandolf who stood firm against the Balrog at the Bridge of Khazad-dum; Like Ripley facing down the Alien Queen we too shall face overwhelming odds and come out victorious.”

 

Pausing once more to calm herself, Valkris let a toothy grin slip across her face. “We are the best of the Federation. We are the Marines of the Ghost Thorn. We will walk into the enemies maw and we will spit in their face. It is they who should fear us! For our honor. For our home. For the Slayer!”

 

The cheers that rose up reverberated through the assault shuttle, both those of the troops present and those aboard Raptor 2 with the Master Sergeant. Valkris knew that she was the only Klingon on board the ship, but at that moment she knew she was not the only warrior. Any who fell today would be welcomed in Stovokor.

 

“Great speech, Marine 1,” came Willow's voice over Valkris' private com channel. “When you get back you might want to avoid the Skipper, though. From the looks of things, she just might send you to Stovokor herself.”

 

Valkris grinned. If the Slayer was going to do her the honor of meeting her in battle, even if it was a sparring match, she would welcome it. She was no longer a timid frightened child. She was Valkris. She was Klingon.

 

(***)

 

“I repeat, this is Colonel Jack O'Niell of Stargate Command. Can anybody read me?”

 

“Channel open, Skipper,” Oz informed her without looking back.

 

“Colonel O'Niell, this is Admiral Summers of the Federation Starship Ghost Thorn. Thank you for rolling out the welcome wagon. We had been concerned about how to locate you,” Buffy calmly said.

 

Silence hung over the open channel for a moment before O'Niell's voice came back with, “Okay, please tell me you have fancy transporter things to get us off of here.”

 

Buffy smiled slightly, shaking her head despite the lack of visual uplink, “I am afraid our transporters are not feasible for your extraction, Colonel. Prior to your little party with the reactor core of that ship the shields were up and blocking them. Now the background radiation from the reactor's detonation is preventing us from getting a firm lock. We'll have to do this the old fashion way.”

 

“And what is the old fashion way, Admiral?” Came the slightly puzzled and extremely curious response from the Colonel.

 

“Tell me, Colonel, have you ever seen a Klingon imitate a pirate?”

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, many thanks to my Beta, Chadmaako. If you haven't checked out his works here on AO3 then I urge you to do so. I'm a particular fan of his Alexia the Vampire Slayer series and his RWBY crossover.
> 
> Thank you again as well to MeJA. Without his help in brainstorming ideas I'd never have gotten around to writing these stories.
> 
> And last, to all of you who have given me kudos. It's always nice to see those pop up in my mailbox. I urge you all to review and give me your opinions. What you like, what you don't like, and where you think I'm going. I'm open to honest constructive criticisms and won't bite your head off, I promise.

Giles cautiously exited the rooms that he had been told where his private quarters. At first, he suspected his Slayer had intended to keep him safely out from underfoot. He couldn't entirely blame her if that was her intent. His reaction to discovering William the Bloody was now a member of her crew and the doctor none-the-less was less than dignifying. Now, after several hours getting his own mental processes back in order he felt confident that he could at least offer an ear to this strange amalgam of his Slayer and a Starship Captain that Buffy had become, if not be a source of positive advice on how to deal with whatever may come.

 

As the door to his quarters slid open and wasn't that disturbing on so many levels to the British man in him as he imagined briefly being naked while someone just strolled in, he looked to either side with a non-plussed expression. He had honestly expected to find someone assigned to his door. To keep him out of trouble at the very least if not under orders to keep him contained. Giles hoped that the fact that Buffy had not seen a need to do so meant that her trust in him was not so badly damaged as to be irreparable.

 

Setting off with a purpose in his steps, Giles turned right out of his quarters. He could vaguely remember the door having been on his left as he was brought here by the two crewmen Buffy had assigned to escort him to his quarters so turning right seemed the only reasonable thing to do. He traveled perhaps a hundred steps before pausing, looking back the way he came, then forward again. The entire hallway seemed to his eyes one uniform design with little to delineate one's position in the ship. With a resolved sigh he turned to continue his forward progress down the barren hallway hoping to come upon something that indicated where the lift was.

 

Ten minutes later Giles was still completely at a loss as to where he was. He wasn't even sure he could find his own quarters now as so much of the design of the ship seemed bent towards intentionally confusing its occupants. He was just trying to determine how to contact someone, anyone at this point, when red lighting suddenly flared to life all around him, blinking off and on with a steady rhythm. Quickly following the blinking lights coming to life he was startled when Buffy's voice echoed through the halls coming from speakers he couldn't detect. “This is the Skipper. We are at red alert, all hands to battle stations.”

 

“Buffy? Buffy, can you hear me?” Giles queried as he looked around desperately trying to figure out how to reach his charge. There was obviously a ship's intercom system and if it had resembled anything like what the British Navy used he might have had some hope of finding it. Every Watcher was at least familiar with the basics of such things should the duties of their Slayer take them to such a locale. “Buffy? Buffy? Bollocks and damned futuristic contraptions. I cannot find my Slayer, I do not know how to return to my quarters, and heaven knows the odds of finding a decent cup of tea on this overly complex rowing barge are so small as to be infinitesimal.”

 

“I don't know,” a soft but amused female voice said from behind him. “I've found vessels like this often have the very best of tea, depending on the Captain.”

 

Giles turned about to find himself face to face with a dark skinned woman that appeared to be in her late thirties or early forties, much like himself. She wore a simple robe-like gown that covered her from neck to ankle and a most unusual and large hat adorning her head. An open and inviting smile played across her lips as she looked him over before she gave him a nod. “I find it best to leave Captains be when all the fancy red lights are flashing around and about. Their attention might be pulled from what they are doing and that could affect their decisions. So instead of leading you to the bridge, why don't I take you for a cup of tea?”

 

Giles could only dumbly nod in agreement; following what he was sure would prove to be the oddest woman he had ever had the fortune, or misfortune, to meet as she led the way down the once baffling hall.

 

(***)

 

Valkris let her grin broaden as the assault shuttle thunked against the metallic hull of the enemy vessel. The sharp-toothed facsimile of a smile would have frightened anyone unfamiliar with a Klingon if they could see it behind the midnight black visor that protected her face. Her blood raced in her ears, pumping in anticipation of the glory about to be found on the field of honor.

 

Her Marines took their weapons into their hands, preparing for the boarding action as Chief Wilks applied the boarding seal and began to breach the hull. Of the lot of them, she was the only one not holding a phaser of some sort in her hands. Instead of one of the assortments of pistols, rifles, and even one phaser that had been modeled after the ancient Terran weapon known as a mini-gat, she instead held the weapon of her species. A bat'leth, the sword of honor. In Valkris' eyes, there was no finer weapon to be wielded by a leader of a boarding party. It ensured the officer in command would be front and center leading the charge into the mass of bodies that surely awaited those that would be so bold as to raid an enemy ship. No fool, she did have a phaser rifle strapped to her back as well but had no intentions of using it unless the situation necessitated it.

 

The thought that a light saber would be even more enjoyable briefly entered her mind before the loud clang of the ship's hull falling inward to the waiting deck reverberated through the shuttle as atmosphere rushed back into it. “We're through, Lieutenant,” Wilks dutifully reported, stepping back to join his fellow Marines. That action brought a smile to her face. None of them had fought together before this, though their memories told them this was not the case. Each of them remembered serving with one or another of those gathered and all of them had heard of the Klingon Marine Lieutenant.

 

“Today is a good day to die,” Valkris pronounced as she tested the perfect balance of her bat'leth. “So let us go and inform our hosts of their impending rites! Qapla'!”

 

The small craft reverberated once more with the echoing response of the marines as they shouted in one voice, “Qapla'!”

 

Still smiling, Valkris stepped through the breech and nodded as she looked to either side and seeing their sister shuttle depositing their crew further down the passage. “Good enough,” she said. “I'll make Klingon warriors out of you all yet.”

 

Moving to gather together, the marines looked around the empty hallway of the mothership. Their briefing, as short as it had been on details, had been very specific about one thing. That this ship held thousands of enemy combatants. Yet the hall was empty, the only sound the occasional rattling of the ship as the Ghost Thorn peppered it with light phaser fire meant more for the psychological effect it would have than causing any real damage.

 

“L.T., what gives? I thought there were thousands of these guys,” Private Kerry said as she looked up and down the halls. “This is freaking creepy. It's like they are ignoring us.”

 

“Just like the Borg,” another Private piped up.

 

“Stow that chatter, Marines,” came the Master Sergeant's gruff voice. “Lieutenant, what are your orders?”

 

Valkris pulled out her PADD, tilting it so the Master Sergeant could see it as well. Pulling up the map that the Ghost Thorn had compiled from her sensor scans she tapped on part of it, “This is where we are, and here,” she said tapping a section not terribly far from their position, “is the closest the Ghost Thorn could pin down the last known location of SG-1.”

 

“Hull's blown out between here and there,” the Master Sergeant mentioned as he studied the map himself. “Be a right pain to go around.”

 

“Good thing Marines come standard with pressure sealed uniforms instead of that Starfleet garbage,” Valkris replied with a smile. The Master Sergeant looked at her, his own smile hidden behind his helmet but still as obvious as if he had been naked before his god to Valkris. “We'll cut through the damaged area and come up behind them,” she said more seriously. “The damaged section should be keeping the locals off SG-1's back and make our getting to them that much easier.”

 

“And if the enemy has flanked them, Lieutenant?”

 

“Then as I already told my fire team, it is a good day to die. Now let's go pass out funeral invitations to these petaQ,” she told him stowing her PADD and again unlimbering her bat'leth as she began to move towards their objective.

 

“You heard the Lieutenant, you grunts! Let's move out. We've got a merry old walk before we find ourselves hip deep in alligators. Don't want you lot to get too bored before that happens, so double time it people before the L.T. leaves you all behind!”

 

(***)

 

“Skipper, incoming hail,” Oz reported from the Con station.

 

“On screen, reception only,” Buffy calmly ordered as Oz moved to do so. The image that filled the forward view screen was one that almost made Buffy laugh. In so many ways it looked like something out of the old holo-dramas of the 23rd century. Everything was lined in gold, the figures before her wore bulky armor that she swore even a Klingon would have a good laugh at with their massive animal head helmets, and the man standing center screen was glaring into whatever passed as a recording device looking for all the world like a pulp villain. If it hadn't been for men just like this causing so much trouble for the Alpha and Beta quadrants over the last two centuries, the Admiral in Buffy would have found it hilarious. They likely would have been right at home with some of the more ostentatious recreations of Orion culture. The Slayer in her, on the other hand, had to cover her mouth to keep from giggling.

 

It was the man's pronouncement of, “I am your God, Apophis, and you will kneel before me,” that finally broke Buffy's will as a round of very un-Admiral-like giggles escaped from her lips.

 

Working to get control of herself she glanced over to Willow, “Number One, are the psychological warfare files intact?”

 

With a puzzled look, Willow dove into the computer's file structure then nodded, “Aye, Skipper. May I ask why?”

 

With a smile, Buffy's only answer was a command to the computer, “Computer, transmit Psychological Warfare Recording Gamma Seven Delta Bravo One Nine. Audio only. Authorization Summers Three Gamma Omega Four.”

 

“Skipper, that is cold,” Xander said cautiously, a look of amused horror crossing his face as the recording began to play.

 

(***)

 

“We are the Borg. From this time forward, your culture will adapt to service our own. You will lower your shields and prepare to be boarded.”

 

(***)

 

“Colonel, are we sure they're who they say they are,” Carter asked as she fired off another burst from behind cover. O'Neill hadn't wanted to move too far from where they had been when they had first contacted the Starfleet ship and wasn't that just a kick. He reasoned that since humans and Jaffa were mostly the same, their sensors might not be able to pick them out of the crowd if they started moving around. Their best hope was that they were able to triangulate their position based on their radio signal. So other than keeping a running commentary going over the comms, staying put was their best option for extraction.

 

O'Neill's face had lit up into another grin as the message from the Ghost Thorn carried throughout the entire ship. “Oh I'm even more certain of it now, Carter,” he told her before a frown covered up his smile. “Just in case, keep an eye out for cyborgs.”

 

“Yes, Sir,” she responded with a bit of confusion as she reloaded her P-90.

 

“We will add your biological and technological distinctiveness to our own,” sounded through the halls of the crippled ship.

 

(***)

 

“Insolent fools!” Apophis was enraged as the audio response played back over and over again through their audio systems. Despite threatening the Jaffa responsible for his ship's communications equipment, they had been unable to stop the message from repeating. Finally, his Jaffa had pulled the crystal that powered communications on the bridge, silencing the blasphemy being transmitted to them.

 

“Target that vessel and remove it from my sight. I do not want there to be even a scrap left behind,” Apophis ordered as he glared out the forward window towards the small ship floating there.

 

“Yes, my Lord,” his First Prime answered him. “Target the vessel, all weapons fire on my command. Fire!”

 

Apophis smiled as twenty plasma cannons, the most powerful in all of the Goa'uld fleets, opened fire. The brilliant glare of red streaking across the blackness of space to incinerate the unbelievers that dared to challenge him, a god. It was a glorious sight.

 

(***)

 

“Damage report,” Buffy calmly asked as the plasma fire struck the Ghost Thorn's shields. She didn't actually need an audible report on the results, she had felt the impact of the plasma on their shields. It felt itchy like a bug had crawled across her skin for a moment before flying off. Still, procedure was meant for more than simply giving her information.

 

“Shields are holding. No damage to the ablative armor, Skipper,” Xander answered from tactical. “Unless they have something many times more powerful, they aren't a danger to us. They couldn't even scratch the armor if we dropped shields, Skipper.”

 

Buffy leaned back in her chair and considered her response carefully. “Lock forward cannons on their engines. Single burst, Tactical. I only want to rattle them.”

 

“Firing,” Xander reported a moment later as the forward cannons of the Ghost Thorn sent their response. Brilliant blue balls of energy sweeping through the space between the two ships to slam into Apophis' vessel. Each cannon fired four times before falling silent once more. The difference in effect was devastatingly obvious. Where once the ship housed it's faster than light drive a massive gaping hole now gave way. Debris floated out into space, trailing away from the sparking bits of twisted metal that had once been spaceship hull.

 

“FTL engines are offline, their shields have collapsed, Skipper,” Xander reported sounding a little bit in awe of the results.

 

Buffy felt her jaw fall open for what seemed an eternity. It took her point seven three seconds to control her reaction and snap her mouth closed with an audible click. Silence reigned on the bridge as the entire crew watched the debris field expand outwards from the exposed hull of the ship.

 

“Oops,” Buffy vaguely heard come from Willow's station.

 

 

 

(***)

 

Valkris was privy to the most spectacular of views when the Ghost Thorn sent a volley of quantum phased particles into the side of the second Goa'uld mothership. Her team had just arrived at the hole in the side of the first ship and she was able to watch as the forward cannons of the Ghost Thorn roared to life and blasted their gaping hole into the second ship. It was glorious.

 

“Come on, people, if the Skipper is ordering the cannons to be brought online she's getting bored or annoyed,” Valkris barked over the comms. “And if any of you has any common sense, you don't want to be out here when the Skipper gets bored and annoyed.”

 

Her Marines replied with a dutiful, “Aye, Aye,” and quickly moved to cross their own chasm. One by one they lined up on their side of the torn and sundered vessel. Securing their weapons for the crossing, each of them took up their starting positions, slightly crouched with each hand loosely held to their sides.

 

“On my mark, Marines,” Valkris called out. “Mark!”

 

As one, the Federation Marines pushed off of the hull plating that comprised the floor, throwing themselves into the void between the two halves of the ship. They floated in the zero gravity for a few moments, their only momentum coming from their initial kick off. Their midnight black armor made them nearly invisible in the open empty blackness of the gaping hole.

 

One by one they ignited the maneuvering units that were integral to their combat armor. Small blue flames lit up, propelling them like a horde of very angry wasps across the gap. As they neared the far side, flames that had been low and back on their packs switched to high and back, bringing them down to make contact with the floor, the magnetic locks in their boots quickly giving them purchase as they landed.

 

“Okay people, let's get going. Wilks, we need this door open. Preferably without damaging it. I don't want to be dealing with their version of emergency bulkheads the whole way to SG-1's position,” Valkris said as she unslung her bat'leth once again.

 

“Colsin, O'Hera, status on the pattern enhancers,” Master Sergeant Frakes asked as he approached them.

 

“Secure and undamaged, Master Sergeant,” Sergeant Colsin instantly replied. “We'll be ready to deploy them as soon as we find our targets.”

 

“Good thing too,” Lance Corporal O’Hera said. “How the hell we'd get them back through this vacuum is beyond me.”

 

“That's why they don't pay you to think, Lance Corporal,” Frakes said with a small grin. “I'm sure the Lt. and the Skipper already have contingencies for just such an occasion.”

 

Across the room, Private Diggins blinked then looked at one of his fellow Marines, “Wait, we're still getting paid?”

 

“I'm through, Ma'am,” Wilks quietly informed Valkris, who acknowledged the report with a nod.

 

“Alright, lock it up, people. Make sure your mag boots are secure before we open this. Things are about to get windy,” she ordered as she did the same herself. “On my mark, Wilks, open the door. Then we get through one at a time, people. I don't want any t'ooho'mlrah cadets.” She waited a moment to hear the expected response and to ensure every Marine had secured themselves. Valkris would be damned if she lost a Marine to idiocy now. Once Master Sergeant Frakes gave her a nod to let her know all was well, she turned to Wilks and nodded, “Mark.”

 

The door slid open and instantly the atmosphere from the undamaged portion of the ship tried to rip the Marines from the deck plating, the magnetic locks in the soles of their boots being the only thing that kept them from being ripped off by the torrent of air and thrown into space. As quickly as they could being limited to raising only one foot at a time the assembled Marines of the Ghost Thorn filed through the now open door. Valkris was the last through before Wilks tapped a command into his PADD that sent a signal to the door to close back up.

 

Not wasting time Valkris nodded to Wilks and moved up past her Marines. Bat'leth in hand she glanced at each of the men and women under her command and smiled at what she saw. “Alright, Marines, we don't have time to sit around and braid each other's hair. Let's get moving. Caharidad, you're on point with me Donnings and Wilks, stay in the middle in case we need some technical wizardry up front. The rest of you spread out, keep your heads on a swivel, and check your fire. We don't need to take down the ones we came to rescue. Move out, Marines!”

 

Without hesitation the Federation Marines spread out, weapons unslung and readied. Sergeant Caharidad slid up front with Valkris, her custom designed phaser rifle held loosely in her hands. Now devoid of the limitations using magnetism to secure themselves they moved with a steady speed and grace not often seen in the Federation's more commonly known face of Star Fleet. It was a sight that would have faded into myth if it hadn't been for the Dominion War. The Federation had begun to see their Marines as a throwback to a more brutal era of their history. When the Dominion began its campaign to take the Alpha Quadrant, however, the Marines quickly stepped up and took their place on the front lines. Almost overnight they had gone from being a relic of a bygone age to being the heroes that children wanted to grow up to become.

 

It was less than ten minutes after setting off that Valkris and Caharidad heard the sounds of weapons fire. Old fashion slug throwers mixed in with the sounds of energy weapons discharge. The sounds of the slug throwers were far too few and infrequent for Valkris' liking. “SG-1 is just ahead,” she said quietly into her comm. “Likely running low on ammunition. Pick up the pace people, they won't last if they run out of bullets.”

 

“Order's, Lieutenant,” Frakes asked over the com as Valkris made the last turn that separated them from SG-1.

 

“Handle it like a Klingon,” Valkris said as she moved forward towards the battle.

 

(***)

 

They were down to their side arms. The P-90's had run out a few minutes ago. Daniel was unconscious having had one of the crates they were using for cover fall and hit him in his head. Bra'tac was still fighting but had taken a staff blast to his shoulder leaving him seriously injured and much slower than he had been. All in all, Jack O'Neill's day was just continuing to get worse. It was only the knowledge that reinforcements and hopefully extraction was on its way to their position that had kept them fighting against the odds. Otherwise, they likely would have made a break for the launch bay and hoped that their luck would continue to hold out.

 

When the stomping started everyone stopped. Human and Jaffa alike froze in place at the rhythmic stomping that echoed down the hallway from behind SG-1's position. Jack couldn't stop the groan that escaped him as he shot a glance over to Carter and Teal'c. Already pinned down they couldn't hold a second front. Jack slowly started to reach for his last remaining grenade, refusing to allow himself or his team to be captured again.

 

Then the singing started.

 

“Qoy qeylls puqlob

Qoy puqbe' pu'

yoHbogh matlhbogh je Suvwl

Say'moHchu' may' 'lw.”

 

The voice was a rich contralto that filled the halls with its strength. As the figure stepped into view no one was quite certain what to make of it. Standing just under six feet and garbed in black armor from head to toe, none of them could tell exactly who it was. The armor's tight fitting contours let all of them know that the singer was female and quite capable of wielding the crescent shaped blade that was held loosely at her side.

 

“maSuv manong 'ej maHoHchu

nl' be' ylnmaj 'ach wovqa'”

 

The figure brought the crescent blade up into a series of arcing slashes through the air. Jack noticed now that the figure was not looking at SG-1 at all. It was instead focusing all of its attention on the Jaffa down the hall from them who still stood in confused curiosity as she sung the mournful yet powerful sounding song.

 

“Betlh maHeghbej 'ej yo' qljDaq vavpu'ma' Dlmuv.

pa' reH maSuvtaHqu”

 

As the figure stepped past SG-1's position, Jack caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. Looking back the direction the black armored singer had come from, he saw more figures in the same black armor. These held rifles, pistols, and one even appeared to be lugging some form of Gatling gun. Quietly, they spread themselves among the line that SG-1 had formed, inserting themselves into their defenses without a sound.

 

“mamevQo'. maSuvtaH. Ma'ov.”

 

As the lead figure stopped singing silence descended upon the hallway. Nobody moved or made a sound, choosing to instead watch the imposing figure in her black armor and crescent blade as she stood alone between SG-1 and the Jaffa. Finally, she spoke, never looking back to SG-1, “Today is a good day to die.”

 

With a roar that sent chills down O'Neill's spine, the black armored figure charged, raising her sword.

 

Jack started to rise up to fire, not wanting to see someone die such a foolish way when a hand clamped down on his shoulder. “Ease down, Colonel,” a gruff voice said in his ear. “The Lieutenant has this under control.”

 

Jack glanced back into the black face plate of the man's helmet then forward at the figure charging into the group of ten Jaffa that had been holding them in place. The lead two raised their staff weapons to fire. The armored figure dove into a roll to the left forcing one to miss their shot. The second Jaffa was quicker to react, his bolt of plasma streaking out to catch his target in the leg. As she rolled to her feet, she glanced down to where the bolt had struck her armor. The only sign she had been hit was a light smoke that rose off the armor. She looked back up to the Jaffa and pulled her helmet off, letting it fall to the floor.

 

“I am Valkris, daughter of Kahless the Unforgettable. I am Klingon. And you should run,” she said to the assembled Jaffa.

 

Not giving them the opportunity to do as she suggested, Valkris charged in, her blade arcing through the air towards the first of her opponents. The Jaffa tried to block her sword with his staff weapon only to find it cleanly severed in two, it's power pack exploding and killing him instantly. Valkris barely noticed the explosion as her armor's integrated personal force shield diverted almost the entirety of the explosion. Spinning her bat'leth in her hand she adjusted the arc to bring it back around towards the second Jaffa. He leaned back, dodging the first leading edge of the blade only to find it changing its arc in flight, the edge further away sinking down then coming up in an uppercut that pierced the Jaffa's lower jaw and embedded into his head.

 

Ripping the now blood-soaked bat'leth from the Jaffa's skull, Valkris stopped and looked at the other Jaffa, her feral expression dancing with joy in the light of the hallway. “I said to run, you honorless petaQ.”

 

Then the fight truly started. Jaffa sprung forward to meet Valkris in close combat as others attempted to move into position to fire at her again. Those Jaffa not engaged in close quarters combat with the raging Klingon warrior soon found something else to be concerned about when the Master Sergeant loudly ordered, “Open fire! And you had better not hit the L.T.!”

 

Jack, not one to hesitate when a battle was joined, quickly slid back into position and started taking carefully aimed shots with his side arm. He knew he didn't have much ammunition left, but he was going to be damned if a bunch of space grunts out shoot him. It didn't matter if they were there to pull his bacon out of the fire or not.

 

Following the example and putting it to action, Master Bra'tac, Teal'c, and Carter all quickly followed suit. The full count of them picking their shots carefully as they eliminated Jaffa after Jaffa that seemed to stream almost endlessly into the corridor. It wasn't long before Teal'c felt his pistol lock, the last of his rounds expended. Watching the warrior woman that wove between staff strikes with the grace of one born to battle, he drew out the knife he had taken to carrying with him since joining the SGC. Glancing over to Master Bra'tac, he received a nod of understanding from the aged warrior and with that, Teal'c moved to join Valkris in her dance.

 

Valkris slid to press her back against her new partner, her bat'leth spinning in deadly graceful arcs as she parried staff strike after staff strike, only to lash out and rend her attacker's limbs and torso's with her deadly blade. One Jaffa managed to slip past her guard, bringing the weighted end of his staff across her cranial ridges. The blow staggered Valkris back a step for a brief moment before she howled in joy.

 

“Now you truly fight! Come then and learn why Klingons are feared throughout the Alpha, Beta, Delta, and Gamma quadrants!”

 

Teal'c was doing all he could to keep up with the odd looking alien woman. He briefly wondered if all of their rescuers were Klingon as this woman claimed to be. Ducking under one wild staff blow he buried his knife into the sternum of his attacker before jerking it back out and slitting his throat. He felt Valkris spin away from him for a moment and the breeze of a staff whipping past his back only to quickly feel her pressed once more against him as the staff suddenly appeared beside him. Not one to question good fortune, Teal'c quickly took a hold of the traditional Jaffa weapon and felt it released by its holder.

 

“That might serve you better than that tiny blade,” Valkris said to him as she spun her bat'leth around, severing the arm of one Jaffa before sliding the pointed blade into his sternum, splitting him wide open.

 

Nodding, Teal'c spun the staff in his hands to get the balance of the weapon. It wasn't as finely crafted as his own staff that waited for him back under the mountain on earth, but it would serve its purpose here now. He lashed out quickly, tripping one Jaffa to back then letting off a point blank blast of plasma into his face. He lamented the death of the other Jaffa for a moment before bringing his staff to block an attempted strike at his own head.

 

In only a few minutes the raging battle was ended. Around Valkris and Teal'c lay the bodies of at least 12 Jaffa, though one might have been hard pressed to confirm it was only 12 after the damage Valkris' bat'leth had done to their bodies. Beyond that inner circle lay the bodies of another 30 or more Jaffa that had been quickly cut down by the combined fire of the Federation Marines and SG-1. Jack O'Neill, who had seen several battlegrounds in his time was hard pressed to remember one that was more thoroughly bloody. Though the weapons that the Federation Marines wielded seemed to kill quickly and cleanly, Valkris' dance of death had more than made up for it.

 

“Master Sergeant, get those pattern enhancers set up. I don't want to be here when more of these petaQ arrive,” Valkris said as she spat on the corpses around her. “And you,” she said, turning to face Teal'c. One hand shot out and grabbed him by the front of his shirt, pulling him in tight to her body as she pressed her lips to his. Letting go she leaned back to look him in the eyes, “You have the heart of a Klingon. I hope it extends to more than just the battlefield.”

 

Jack felt his eyes going wide at the obvious display by the alien woman. Carter for her part was slack-jawed. Teal'c simply raised an eyebrow and gave a stoic, “Indeed,” in reply.

 

 

(***)

 

Apophis was in a near rage. The worthless Tau'ri ship had crippled his own, leaving him helpless if he remained. Realizing that he could not suffer any of his Jaffa on board to live lest the outcome of the battle became known and incited rebellion, he strode towards the door leading from the bridge.

 

“My Lord?” His First Prime asked as he neared his goal.

 

“I am going to join my son and ensure these traitors have not harmed him with their cowardly attack upon us,” Apophis told him without slowing. “Continue to fight and bring these vermin to their knees.”

 

“Yes, My Lord,” his first prime answered back, turning to give the orders to continue the battle.

 

Once free of the bridge and alone, Apophis immediately set about ensuring no one survived to tell of his failure here today. The only people to leave alive would be himself and his son.

 

Around him, the internal speakers continued to broadcast the Tau'ri's strange message. He hadn't realized that his Jaffa had only managed to free the bridge of the foul noise. It nearly drove him back to it simply to escape the monotonous multi-toned voice echoing through the halls.

 

“Your defensive capabilities are incapable of stopping us. You will escort us to your homeworld where we will begin assimilation. Resistance is Futile.”

 

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you to my beta, Chadmaako, and my brainstorming partner, MeJA. Without you both I would not have gotten as far as I have in my stories.

When her com badge chimed, Buffy casually tapped a button on her command chairs arm rest that would relay it through the bridge's speakers as she answered, “Summers here, what do you have for me.”

 

“Primary objective secured, Skipper,” Valkris' voice said over the connection. Buffy could almost feel the tangible relief that flowed through her bridge officers at the announcement. “They have two wounded so we'll need transport for them directly to sickbay. I'll move on to the secondary objective once transport is complete.”

 

Buffy nodded to herself regardless of the com link being only audio. “Very well, Lieutenant. The secondary objective is just that, secondary. Make sure you have a way out. This isn't a Sunnydale scenario.”

 

Valkris' reply of, “Aye, aye Skipper,” for some reason didn't fill Buffy with the warm fuzzies that it should have. Instead, she had the strangest image of Andrew charging through the corridors of the Goa'uld ship as he screamed about felling the evil Empire of the Goa'uld. Before she could respond though the connection was closed from Valkris' side.

 

“Should we be worried, Skipper?” Willow asked quietly as she turned to face her best friend and commanding officer.

 

“It's Valkris. What's there to worry about?” Xander said from the tactical station. Both of his female friends turned to glare at him and after a few moments his beat red face turned to look at his tactical readout once more as he muttered, “It's not like it's Andrew over there.”

 

Xander never noticed the small snort from Buffy or the smile that crept across her face.

 

(***)

 

“What do you mean you're staying here!” Colonel O'Neill was practically shouting as he tried to stare down the Klingon Lieutenant that had led the charge to rescue them. “You've got big honkin' space guns on that ship, don't you? So let's get the hell out of here and let your Captain do her thing!”

 

“You would have me run from a battle, human?” Was Valkris' snarled response as she glared back at the Colonel. “You would ask me to dishonor myself by not completing my mission and fleeing from these Jaffa? If this is the greatest hero humanity has to offer it is a wonder that your species survived long enough to discover warp drive.”

 

The argument had broken out almost as soon as Valkris had finished her report to Buffy. O'Neill was no stranger to following orders. He was even less of a stranger to following orders that led him against near suicidal odds. He could even admit that watching Valkris and her Marines enter the battle had been a thing of terrifying beauty. He had seen several staff blasts connect with the Marine's armor and simply dissipate a fraction of an inch away from the surface. They obviously had the Jaffa seriously outmatched both offensively and defensively. But O'Neill knew a thing or two about the quality of quantity and the Jaffa had quantity in spades. None of those reasons really mattered, though. There was just something off that was hovering just at the edge of his senses. He had survived by following those gut feelings for too long to disregard them now.

 

“Damn it, what in the hell is so important that you would stay behind and risk your men's lives, Lieutenant?” O'Neill said pushing every ounce of authority he could into his voice. He knew he was being rude. You didn't call out the commanding officer of an operation like this without a damn good reason. It was the kind of thing that could ruin a career. That thought made Jack snort mentally. It wasn't like he hadn't done plenty in his life that could have ruined his career. Particularly since joining the SGC.

 

Valkris started to smile. It kind of creeped Jack out seeing that grin filled with all those sharp pointed teeth. It wasn't the kind of smile you let children see unless you wanted them to grow up with nightmares and psychotic tendencies. “That is quite simple, Colonel. Intelligence in the form of this ship's computer core. I intend to recover all the data contained within it.”

 

That stopped Jack O'Neill's ranting as he considered the ramifications of securing such a prize. He didn't expect there to be every last secret of the Goa'uld buried within the ship's database, but what there was would be one hell of an intelligence victory for Earth. Provided their new allies shared. It was almost tempting to agree with Valkris that such a victory would be worth the risk she was apparently set on taking.

 

“You will not be able to claim such a prize easily, Lieutenant Valkris,” Teal'c said in his usual even tones as he joined the conversation. “The Goa'uld are many things and secretive is one of their greatest attributes. They horde and conceal their knowledge from as many as they are able while seeking to gain it from others. There will be many Jaffa tasked with securing the main computer and the protections Apophis will have placed upon this ship's central computer and the information in it will be formidable.”

 

Valkris looked at the Jaffa warrior she had suddenly found herself fighting back to back with. She could still feel the thrumming excitement that ran through her body at finding someone who could be an equal on the field of battle. She also had started to feel the sweat-inspiring terror that came with realizing she had kissed him. Yes, alright, she was a woman now. Even more important, she knew that even before all of this mess she had started to notice guys as much if not more than girls. What that meant to her previously was pretty obvious, though as Andrew she had never looked at it too closely. She had already been an outcast and geek. She hadn't wanted to add freak on top of it.

 

Now she had not only grabbed a stranger and kissed him senseless she had all but thrown herself at him. It was terrifying to think that she had suddenly lost control over herself so readily. Valkris knew that Klingons found battle to be an aphrodisiac, but this was a little more than she was ready to deal with. What would she do if he tried to take her up on the offer? Turn him down like the universe's biggest tease?

 

“The big guy is right,” Jack said snapping Valkris out of her introspection. “Even if you have some fancy computer gear, it'll still take time to crack the systems and transfer the data. How in the hell do you expect to keep yourself alive long enough to do that and still get back to your ship?”

 

Valkris turned her attention back to the Colonel, silently thanking him for drawing the conversation away from Teal'c. “Who said I needed to stay to do that? Once I establish a remote connection with the computer core I will only need enough time to set up the pattern enhancers and beam out. The Ghost Thorn will finish the data recovery remotely and then destroy this ship. Or is that too difficult for you to understand Colonel?”

 

“No, that's pretty simple to understand,” O'Neill said as he eyeballed the Klingon Warrior before him. For a moment he wondered if this was how Hammond felt when dealing with him and his team before he pressed on. “I also notice the distinct use of singular pronouns, Lieutenant,” he said, again pushing his command voice forward. “Does that mean you intend to make this a solo op?”

 

“One person is less likely to be discovered, Colonel,” Valkris said with a sneer. “Or do you not comprehend the value of stealth? Once your team has been beamed back to the Ghost Thorn my Marines will follow. One of our shuttles will remain on station in case I need an alternative means of extraction. We are not amateurs, Colonel.”

 

“Could have fooled me,” O'Neill said with a low mutter. “Teal'c, you're the most familiar with this ship's design besides Bra'tac. I want you to assist the Lieutenant in securing the Goa'uld computer core. I'll have Carter get with their computer people and give assistance at that end and I need to get in touch with their commanding officer.”

 

Valkris bristled and begun to open her mouth to profess her disagreement with the human who suddenly seemed to think he had a say in her operation. Before she could, Teal'c gave O'Neill a simple nod of understanding and said, “Very well, O'Neill. There is a computer access terminal not far from here. Will that suffice, Lieutenant Valkris?”

 

Valkris shook off the irritation she felt as well as the thrill that ran up her spine at the thought of fighting at this Jaffa's side once more and nodded. “It will if it has uninterrupted access to the data on the computer core.”

 

“Good. Great. See, that's a better plan than you running around blind, Lieutenant,” O'Neill said with a smirk. “Now, let's get things done so we can all get the hell off this barge and back home.” O'Neill turned and strode over towards the pattern enhancers where Carter and Bra'tac waited with the unconscious Daniel between them. “Come on kids, time to get off this wonderful ride. I understand we have some friends expecting us.”

 

Valkris watched him go, several burning insults hanging on the tip of her tongue. She wanted to shove the human Colonel's attitude out an airlock. It reminded her too much of how several people had treated her when she was simply Andrew, high school geek. Teal'c's level voice was the only thing that drew her out of her thoughts.

 

“O'Neill is wise. The Jaffa here outnumber us greatly. If you had been forced to backtrack or wander in your search for access to the computer it could have jeopardized your mission, Lieutenant Valkris.”

 

Valkris looked over to the Jaffa that was at least part of the root of her ill temper and nodded. “Perhaps,” she was forced to admit before turning away. “Come, I want to finish this and return to the Ghost Thorn quickly. I do not wish to keep Sto'vo'kor from welcoming those who choose to die with honor and Gre'thor from claiming those who would flee like cowards.”

 

(***)

 

Jack O'Neill had already made peace with the strangeness that his day had been infected with. If he had to be completely honest he was even thankful for it. While his team had been slowly but surely making a name for themselves from doing the utterly improbable their survival that day had been assured by what he would have considered the completely impossible. Then the sleek dark form of Federation style starship had appeared before his eyes and disabused him of his notions on what was merely improbable versus what was impossible.

 

Watching the two individuals who now went about treating Daniel's and Bra'tac's injuries with the self-assured certainty and calm of professionals he couldn't be happier to have his perceptions twisted around. They worked with such smoothness, moving around one another, items being handed back and forth with barely more than a single word or a glance that he could tell they were long used to being a team. The Blonde, which he heard referred to as the Doctor, had quickly injected Daniel with something after passing some form of scanning device over him. Whatever was in the injection had been prepared by the raven haired woman that seemed to be acting as his nurse, though Jack heard the Doctor refer to her as Counselor. He hadn't even looked to check what it was she had handed him before pressing it to Daniel's neck and triggering the injection.

 

Daniel was laid down on one of the beds in the sick bay to rest while the duo quickly moved to Bra'tac. Jack watched the old warrior glance up to the Doctor for a moment, stubbornness set in lines across his forehead. Jack knew what that stubbornness was coming from. He had shown it himself many times to Janet Frasier, though he usually hid it behind humor and an over-exaggerated fear of needles. It was the fighter inside refusing to acknowledge injury. Denying that they might be as mortal as the next man. That somehow their very will to survive against all odds would protect them.

 

Yeah, Jack didn't like needles but he disliked confronting his own mortality even more. The needles were just a convenient scapegoat.

 

“Mate, ain't nothin' here gonna make you less,” Jack heard the Doctor quietly say to the injured Jaffa Master. “Cept, of course, you actin' like a bleedin' fool. Now wipe that look off your face and let me and mine work a'fore I let my princess here have words with you.”

 

The tone was deceptively calm. They could all hear the steel in the Doctor's voice as he stared down Bra'tac until finally the Jaffa nodded his head and relented. It was a scarce few minutes before the Doctor had finished with him, setting his arm in a sling mainly to keep his shoulder stationary. Jack had watched the work he had done alongside Carter, both Air Force officers less shocked than they would have been a year ago at the speed and efficiency of the medical devices their hosts possessed. What was once a rather bloody wound was now bandaged, wrapped, and had looked well on its way to being a working shoulder once more all in less time than it took Frasier to complete one of their physicals upon returning through the Gate.

 

The Doctor broke off after talking quietly with the Nurse-slash-Counselor and approached Jack. He glanced between both of the Air Force Officers taking in their respective ranks with a glance, Jack noticed, before settling on addressing him.

 

“Colonel, your boy over there suffered a mild concussion. Not his first one from what I could tell. Shame that. What passes for medicine in this time isn't too far removed from using railroad spikes on the brain to cure insanity,” he said with a bit of a sneer. Jack noticed that the Counselor went a little wide-eyed at the comment before glaring at her counterpart. “He'll be good to go after a few hours rest. Suggest you don't let him near any firefights for at least twenty four hours, but you can get him out of my sickbay after he wakes up.”

 

He motioned back to Bra'tac with his chin as he continued, “The other fella, Jaffa if I'm right, is gonna take a bit longer ta heal. That wound was fairly deep and did some damage to the shoulder socket. Managed to patch that right up and get all the nerve endings reattached but it'll take some time for the muscle to heal. Figure a month of rehab after that bare minimum to get his shoulder back to fightin' trim. That's if he stays in our care and gets regular treatment. Longer if he's forced ta' use that barbarism you all call medicine.”

 

Jack couldn't help but feel slightly offended on Janet's behalf at the dismissive and even hostile opinion the Doctor seemed to have of modern medicine. He could feel his temper starting to get the better of him and was about to spout off some wise crack meant to insult the Doctor when the Counselor walked up and took him by the arm.

 

Jack was not particularly surprised by the lilting soprano voice that came out as she said, “Spike, you be nice to these people. Walk the tunnels between the lights they have, facing things that would have given you and I dreams to make even Angelus shiver long before the stars took us. Work with what they have is all they can do just as we did. No reason to belittle their Doctor of Flame and Needles just because we have more now than we once did.”

 

Certain that he didn't understand everything she had said Jack never-the-less noticed that the Doctor, Spike, seemed to understand her perfectly. The Doctor's hand rose to meet the Counselor's cheek, brushing his thumb across it gently as he smiled at her. Their eyes locked for several moments before he nodded and gently kissed her forehead. “Right you are, Luv,” he said with a tone so much softer than the one he had used towards Jack that it was almost a surprise that he could speak as such.

 

“Great, wonderful, fantastic even,” Jack finally said with as much cheer as he could muster as he clapped his hands together. “So, as fabulous as all this is, any chance I could speak with your CO? I left one of my people behind to help one of yours and I'd like to get up to speed on things sooner rather than later.”

 

The Counselor smiled at him brilliantly, nodding as she motioned to the door, “Of course Colonel. The Skipper would be remiss if she didn't welcome you. She will want to know your friend dances with hers among the ruins of the false one as well. So let us hop and skip and slide our way to where she sits watch over those who would defile the home of her house that isn't.”

 

Jack blinked looking at the petite Counselor as he replayed what she said in his head. He could follow it, it wasn't like she was speaking in riddles. It was just, odd. He could feel part of his mind trembling in fear at the lectures he knew Daniel would start giving when he heard her speak.

 

“I think she wants to take us to see the Captain, Sir,” Sam decided to helpfully point out to him, taking his look of surprise and consternation to mean he was confused. “I'm Captain Samantha Carter, this is my C.O. Colonel Jack O'Neill,” she said as she offered her hand to the Counselor.

 

The other woman quickly grasped Sam's hand with both of her own, squeezing them gently as she swayed side to side. “I am Drusilla Ja'thron, Ship's Counselor. I do hope you won't be so afraid when she visits you. If you are not afraid it shall only be brief and will leave you so much more than you were. If you are brave, though, then her visit will be longer and you will find yourself more whole than you could dream possible. She can show you wonders and worlds so much greater than you can imagine if you allow her.”

 

Jack watched as Samantha pulled back from Drusilla in confusion. Spike simply placed his hands on her shoulders and began to rub the woman's arms as if to comfort her. “Well, isn't that creepy,” Jack said as he stared at the Counselor with suspicion in his eyes.

 

“Nothing to worry about now, Colonel,” Spike said as he wrapped his arms around the Counselor. “My Dru, she can see a bit of the future. Possibilities that might come, possibilities that might not. Don't worry overmuch about it. Keep it in mind, it'll mean something one day, but right now we need to get you to see the Skipper.”

 

Jack gave Samantha a sideways glance and noticed that she seemed to be unnerved by the sudden greeting and pronouncement from the odd speaking Counselor. She caught his glance at her and shook her head then her entire body like a dog shaking off water. In that brief movement, he could see her bury her discomfort and don the face of a professional soldier and scientist once more. “He's right Colonel. The quicker we can co-ordinate with their computer people the quicker we can figure out how to help Teal'c.”

 

“Alrighty, then. Take us to your leader,” O'Neill said with as much of a smile as he could pull out of himself. He did always want to say that, after all.

 

(***)

 

The trip to the Bridge had been a quick one. Having seen the discomfort that the two had shown around Drusilla after her sudden burst of precognition, Spike had taken them himself. Jack had been ready to have to drag Carter along with them as they went, fully expecting her to want to stop every twenty feet to examine some new doodad or gizmo. It didn't take long for him to realize that she seemed to be suffering from what he thought of as 'geek overload'. Between the transporters that had been used to beam them directly from one ship to the other, the energy weapons the Marines had used, the level of medical technology the Doctor had used to treat their friends, and now even the turbolift, Samantha Carter had reached a point that she couldn't seem to find the questions she so desperately wanted to ask. Jack knew it was only a matter of time before that brilliant brain of hers worked through the backlog of information and the questions would start to pour out. His second in command was so much like Daniel in that regard, only with tech instead of cultural differences.

 

As he stepped onto the Bridge, Jack looked around at the layout finding it remarkably similar to how he imagined it would be. The primary difference being the two stations that sat at a slight angle to the central command chair. The crew was even somewhat familiar to him from the television show he was drawing his preconceptions from. He saw two individuals that he thought to be Vulcans, though the one at the station on the central dais was a redhead which he didn't expect. One person standing her post along the outer rim of the Bridge had bright blue skin and two antenna poking out from her white hair. He fought for a moment through his memories before placing the species as an Andorian, one of the founding members of the Federation. Most of the crew appeared to be human, though.

 

That was when the odd feeling he had upon meeting Valkris slammed back into him. He started to watch and really look at the various people working on the bridge. He was so invested in his inspection he almost missed one of the crew reporting to his Captain.

 

“They've launched small craft, Skipper,” the crewman stationed at the right most forward console reported. “I'm picking up over seven hundred contacts.”

 

“Analysis, Tactical,” the small, and Jack couldn't help but think of her as not just small but tiny, blonde seated in the command chair ordered.

 

Jack watched as the dark haired man sitting to her left at the other centrally located post quickly ran his hands over the console before him before reporting, “They are armed with the same plasma based weapons as the mothership but much smaller in scale. Maneuverability and speed appear to be less than one-tenth of the Ghost Thorn's. No detectable shielding systems either.”

 

The blonde nodded as she considered the view on the forward screen. “So completely useless in an attack on us, yet they launched what is likely their entire complement of fighters. Any idea's on why?”

 

“The files said the Jaffa consider the Goa'uld to be their gods. Simple stupidity disguised as fanaticism could be the case,” the red head said from her post. Jack quickly twigged to the rising and falling tones of her voice and the edge of distaste and even hatred as she mentioned the Goa'uld. It almost immediately made him start to reconsider his assessment that she was a Vulcan.

 

“What, they know they can't beat us so they decide on suicide by starship?” The brunette man at the tactical station asked in disbelief. “There's no profit in that, nothing to gain. These guys supposedly rule most of the galaxy. I can't believe they'd be that stupid.”

 

“Distraction,” Jack said from where he still stood near the turbo lift doors. “All those fighters? It's a distraction. Something to make you pay attention to them while they do something else.”

 

The blonde turned to study him. Her green eyes seemed to bore into him as she looked him over before nodding, “The Colonel is right. It's a distraction. We don't know what from, but we can eliminate the distraction easily enough, I think. Tactical, forward torpedoes, full spread, set the quantum warheads to maximum dispersal.”

 

“Aye, aye, Skipper,” her Tactical officer promptly said as he tapped several controls. As she gave the order and he repeated back, “Fire,” “Firing,” Jack watched several glowing lights lance out on the forward viewscreen. They weren't the red that he had expected but a bright and sparkling blue color. Altogether there were 12 of the lights that spread out in a box-like formation as they rapidly closed on the Goa'uld Deathgliders. The time from launch to detonation was so quick that O'Neill wasn't sure he could measure it without a really precise watch. When the 12 blue lights of the quantum torpedoes streaked into the formation of Deathgliders they detonated in a flash of energy. As the screen cleared all that was left was floating wreckage.

 

“Mr. Levinson, I want you to find me what they were trying to hide. Any unaccounted for energy signatures, life signs, or unusual phenomenon. Whatever they were trying to do, I want it found so we can take steps to counter it,” the blonde woman said as she stood from her seat and turned towards Jack.

 

She walked towards him with the kind of confidence that he was used to seeing from career officers. It wasn't arrogance, he could tell. That kind of attitude held its own set of queues and signs all its own. This was pure self-assured confidence in her ability to command and her right to do so. It was often confused for arrogance by those that were less capable, that felt less assured about their own abilities. Jack wasn't one of those people.

 

“Welcome to the Ghost Thorn, Colonel,” the blonde said as she held out her hand. Jack reached to take it, wishing that feeling in his gut would just go away.

 

 


	16. Sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, a big thank you to my brainstorming and editing partners, Chadmaako and MeJA. You two are great friends and partners in crime.
> 
> Not much happens in this chapter, but what does happen needed to happen. So I got some things out of the way so I could move on with the story.

Teal'c stopped short as Valkris' right hand rose up behind her in a closed fist. It occurred to him briefly that if he had not grown used to O'Neill's use of such hand signals he wouldn't have known to freeze in place. A moment later Teal'c watched with no little amusement as two Jaffa passed the four-way intersection that the two of them had stopped at. Pressed against the corridor's wall, there was nothing they could use as concealment. Teal'c felt his hands tighten around the staff weapon Valkris had handed him during their first battle together in preparation for doing violence.

 

Much to his amazement neither Jaffa noticed them and walked on, their eyes forward and never looking to either side of the corridor. It was sloppy and something that Teal'c would not have countenanced during his time as First Prime to Apophis. Even more surprising was Valkris. He had fully expected her to charge out singing another of her death dirges, her blade leading the way as she met her foes in battle. Instead, she was completely silent, not even seeming to breathe until the two Jaffa had made their way past their position and were well out of sight.

 

Her hand opened up and without a glance back waved him forward as she slid into the corridor, watching where the Jaffa had gone. With a single raised eyebrow, Teal'c silently moved out into the intersection and turned in the direction opposite that his fellow Jaffa had trod. He tapped Valkris on the shoulder, nodding in the direction he was headed before moving out. He had to glance back after a moment of silence to make sure the Klingon Warrior was following him. He saw her, bat'leth unlimbered from her back and held loosely in her hands as she followed him in equal silence. He again raised an eyebrow towards her to which her only reply was a broad toothy grin.

 

That grin both unsettled and intrigued Teal'c. For a brief moment had was forced to remind himself that he was a married man and would not be taking the Klingon up on her offer. For an even briefer moment his mind wondered what would happen were he not married. The thought barely had time to form before he had turned around and continued down the corridor.

 

Two more turns and they found themselves outside a door. Teal'c knew that there would be Jaffa inside guarding the secondary computer access, but there wouldn't be as many. He unclipped a stun grenade that he had taken from one of the Jaffa that had fallen during what he had begun to think of as the Last Stand that Wasn't. Before he could open the door to throw the grenade in, Teal'c felt a hand on his arm stopping him. A glance across to Valkris revealed her holding a rectangular object in her hands. It was hinged half way through its length and was currently opened. She tapped on what looked like a touch screen and Teal'c felt one eyebrow rise in surprise. A moment later the other eyebrow joined it when Valkris held up one hand. Index and Middle finger held straight up, her ring finger was tucked down and held in place by her thumb leaving her pinkie to stand upwards like the other two fingers.

 

Teal'c nodded, only slightly surprised that Valkris seemed to know the hand signals for Earth's military. He was more impressed by the small device that had allowed her to know there were seven guards in the room. He was also thankful for the small object and Valkris' foresight to use it. Seven was near twice the number he had expected to be guarding the false god's repository of knowledge.

 

Valkris gave him a nod towards the grenade then pointed to the door. She then pointed at Teal'c and motioned to the right then held up her thumb, index, and middle fingers. After she motioned to herself and then to the left, holding up all four fingers while her thumb tucked in against the palm of her hand. This caused Teal'c to raise an eyebrow as he appraised her, his eyes burrowing hard into hers. After a moment he was satisfied with what he saw. Valkris was a warrior like him. If she thought she could handle four Jaffa Warriors, she could handle four Jaffa Warriors. She had already proven as much.

 

Nodding he punched the panel to open the door, the grenade quickly flying in as it slid open. Both Jaffa and Klingon pressed their backs to the wall as the grenade detonated. Once the initial blast was finished Teal'c moved in first, sliding to the right of the room intent on quickly subduing and neutralizing the Jaffa there. He struck his first target with a hard kick to the back of his head, dropping the Jaffa from his place on the floor on all fours to lay flat on his stomach. His second target was just as helpless, leaning against the counsel trying to fight off the effects of the grenade. Teal'c led with the end of the staff, driving it into his adversary's stomach then lifting it up to catch him under the chin. The Jaffa promptly rocked forward then back into the console before sliding to the floor unconscious. His third target was already out, having not protected himself from the blast of the stun grenade. Again, Teal'c mentally noted on how sloppy these Jaffa were.

 

Across from him, he saw Valkris already finished with her four. However, instead of the bat'leth and blood all around her as he had expected, she had replaced her bat'leth on her back and held a rifle of some sort. Wondering what would have her swap from the sword she seemed almost one with, Teal'c began to move across the room to her side.

 

Valkris was already unpacking several items from a small pouch on her waist. She held her hand out, offering what Teal'c thought where some form of handcuffs. Valkris motioned to one of the four she had knocked unconscious, “Bind her hands and legs. She will be returning with us as a prisoner,” Valkris told him before pulling more objects out of her pouch and moving to the console.

 

Teal'c stopped to look at the woman and realized two things instantly. The first and most obvious was that she was not Jaffa. Her forehead was free of the tattoo of the false god she served. The second and most unsettling as that this was a Goa’uld. He could feel her symbiote like a subtle sickness gnawing at him. That feeling almost drove him to drive the end of his staff weapon into her head and release its plasma discharge directly into the false god's brain. It was not a pleasant thought but one brought upon by decades of personal and centuries of cultural enslavement. She represented everything Teal'c wanted to wipe from the face of the galaxy.

 

Swallowing down his own revulsion he quickly applied the wrist and ankle binders to the false god. When he tightened them down he found that while he couldn't make them as tight as he would wish, there did not seem to be any wiggle room. The binders were firmly set and he doubted anyone could escape from them without some form of outside assistance. He then quickly went about removing any and every piece of technology on the false god, taking a small bit of glee as he flipped her over and her face smacked firmly on the floor.

 

“Finished here,” Valkris said from the console. “Is our guest ready for her trip?”

 

“Indeed,” Teal'c said as he locked down on the anger and rage he still felt as he lifted the false god up to her unconscious feet.

 

“Good,” Valkris said before tapping the small badge on her chest. “Valkris to Ghost Thorn. Remote connection established you are clear to do your thing, Skipper. Give us a moment to set up the pattern enhancers and we'll be ready for transport.”

 

“Negative, Valkris,” Came Buffy's voice over the com badge. “Transporter Room 3 has a clean lock on your badge. We are assuming the conscious person in the room with you is Colonel O'Neill's?”

 

“Aye, Skipper. We have one prisoner returning with us as well,” Valkris informed her ship's Captain as she repacked a few items before saying, “Three to transport whenever you are ready, Skipper.”

 

Teal'c couldn't help the small smile that crossed his lips as he felt the transporter take a hold of him and the limp body he held up against him. Valkris had said it was a good day to die. He couldn't help but agree and was even more pleased that it was not his death but the false gods that would come this day.

 

(***)

 

“Thanks for having us,” Jack said as he took the woman's hand in his own. Sam spotted the flicker in his eyes for the briefest of moments as flesh met flesh then it was gone. Filing it away as something to discuss later, Samantha Carter, Air Force Captain and Theoretical Physicist turned her eyes to the technological marvel that was the Bridge.

 

All around her she saw evidence of technologies that obviously evolved out of things that had been developed in the last 50 years on up to things being developed just now by computing companies around the globe. The motion sensors that controlled the doors were obviously an evolution of the technology that had been invented in the 50's but had become so miniaturized here on this ship as to be undetectable. Voice recognition software had first debuted in the 70's but it had been less than a decade since Dragon had released DragonDictate, the first commercially available voice recognition software. Yet she could see officers working at their stations often softly vocalizing commands to their stations which promptly responded with no apparent lag in response times or mangling by the program of what was said which was still a problem with the software developed on Earth. The touch screens that adorned nearly every available surface of the bridge was yet another matter. Earth's first development of the technology had been in the 60's, but it was still at a relatively rudimentary stage. The high definition displays that served as both input and output devices at each of the stations was barely the tip of the iceberg once she saw the small handheld devices that the crew was using, each with its own high-resolution multi-touch enabled display in a package that looked to be less than half an inch thick.

 

Individually, each of these relatively minor advancements of technology from what was available already on Earth was a curiosity. Intriguing to be certain, but not something that would be completely mind-blowing for someone like Sam that kept up on the latest technologies in development. Taken together with the familiarity and casual regard for the devices, so similar to the way Americans regarded such modern conveniences as a television or microwave oven, spoke volumes. These people were leaps and bounds beyond Earth from a technological standpoint.

 

“Come on, Carter,” Jack said, snapping her out of her technology induced euphoria.

 

Blushing slightly in embarrassment, she quickly buried the emotion and put aside her pending geek out to follow her C.O. Seeing they were being led to a door set opposite of the turbo-lift they had taken to arrive on the bridge and situated next to yet a third door Sam quickly puzzled out where they were being led.

 

As the door swooshed open it revealed a modestly sized room that was decorated with various knick knacks and memorabilia that a career officer tends to collect. Resting on a shelf were three medals in their respective display cases and accompanied by certificates. Across the room, Sam could see some form of an aquarium built into the wall. The lack of water made her wonder just what was kept the in class housing with a slight shudder. A display case that sat in one of the corners furthest from the door held two ship models that were distinctly different than the one she now found herself on. The desk was smaller than she expected from someone that commanded a starship yet its contoured lines and black frame still gave an impression of someone with authority that was used to exercising it. A couch with a coffee table sat against one wall with two other chairs opposite the couch. The material that covered them was a dark blue and each piece of furniture looked warm and inviting. It was to this couch and the respective chairs that their host led them to and Sam suddenly realized she had been asked another question and had lost herself in her surroundings yet again.

 

“She'll have coffee, black,” Jack answered for her and she nodded in agreement.

 

“Coffee, black,” Sam heard their host repeat near a device set into the wall that she immediately identified as a replicator. As the coffee materialized, Sam could feel that urge to start throwing questions build to a point that she wasn't sure she would be able to resist the pressure inside herself. The scientist in her wanted to start questioning how everything worked. The geek in her wanted to salivate over being on board a Federation starship.

 

As the blonde ship's commander passed them their drinks Sam smiled and gave a nod of gratitude. As they sat at the coffee table, her and Jack taking the couch while Buffy took one of the chairs, Sam couldn't help but notice the small lopsided smile she was receiving.

 

“Go ahead,” the other blonde said with a small chuckle. “Get it out, I know you want to. I've seen that look before on the faces of many a scientist.”

 

Sam started to open her mouth to let the questions flow when Jack's hand promptly slapped over it. She glanced sideways at him to find he was giving her his patented death glare. “Three questions, Carter. Short ones. Or we'll be here until the Goa'uld decide to come back and try again.”

 

Sam gave her Commanding Officer a nod then verbally replied with a, “Yes, Sir,” when he removed his hand trying not to feel too insulted. She knew she had a tendency to start rambling, after all. She was more embarrassed to be called out on it in front of a stranger than anything.

 

“Well, Captain, what are your three questions?” Her host asked with a playful smirk.

 

Sam stopped and thought about things, trying to order her thoughts as well as she could and sift through as much of what she had picked up and noticed while on board as she could. Finally deciding to drop all pretenses and go for the big question that she knew even Jack was wondering Carter asked, “Will the Prime Directive allow you to share your technology with us?”

 

She watched as the – a quick glance at the woman's collar answered one question very quickly – Admiral blew out her breath and seemed to almost deflate. “Go straight for the difficult questions, don't you?” She asked as Sam watched her carefully. “It's a tricky situation. By technicalities, your Earth, as it is now, doesn't meet the requirements for First Contact with the Federation. However, due to circumstances outside of my control contact was accidently made. As a Star Fleet officer, I have a responsibility to render reasonable aid in situations I deem acceptable, such as this attack by the Goa'uld upon Earth. Yet I also have a responsibility to uphold the spirit of the Prime Directive, which is to not exert undue influence on another species’ cultural and scientific advancement.”

 

“So you won't be sharing those big honkin' space guns with us,” the Colonel said, Sam quickly taking note of the mixture of disappointment and surprisingly, understanding in his voice.

 

“Not as such, no,” the Admiral said with a shake of her head. “I am sure you can imagine what would happen if we were to give the American Government of the late 20th century exclusive access to the weapon and defense technologies on board this ship. That is ignoring the fact that several raw materials required to fabricate them do not exist in the Sol System.”

 

“Surely you can't believe that something catastrophic would happen,” Sam suddenly spat out, her cheeks reddening as she considered the implied meaning behind the Admirals declaration.

 

“That is exactly what she's saying, Carter,” Jack said as he shook his head. “And I can't believe I'm saying this, but she's right.” When Sam turned her wide and surprised eyes on him, Jack continued, saying, “Not that I like it, but she's right. Look at our own history. Hell, look at theirs. If it was anything like... umm...” Jack staggered to a stop looking slightly embarrassed himself now.

 

“Don't be concerned with sparing our feelings, Colonel. One of the first things we discovered from browsing Earth's internet was the Star Trek franchise that exists here,” Admiral Summers said with her smile returning for a moment before it fell away. Setting her own beverage on the coffee table, Admiral Summers looked back and forth between them giving Sam the distinct impression she was being judged by the younger looking blonde. “However, the truth is that much of the basic history presented is correct. Before Earth, the Federation's Earth that is, learned to put aside geocentric politics in order to work towards the greater good of our species rather than only for isolated pockets of it, we nearly destroyed ourselves twice over. First in the Eugenics War and then shortly after with World War Three. And we managed to do that with nuclear weapons not much more powerful than what you have now. So no, I can't hand over our weapon and defense technologies.”

 

Sam stopped and replayed in her mind what was said, pushing her knee-jerk reaction aside and forcing herself to actually think logically rather than pout over all the toys she wouldn't get to play with. “You can't hand the technology over. Specifically, you can't hand over the weapon and defense technologies. That likely includes a great many of your systems like your warp drive or the transporters as well. It likely comprises every major system on this ship. So what can you give us?”

 

The Admiral smiled and nodded, “I can give you exactly what the Vulcans gave us,” she said. When Sam looked on expectantly the smile on the Admiral's face grew larger as she said, “I can point you in the right direction.”

 

Sam felt her eyes widening. What the Admiral was offering wasn't what many people back home would want to hear, but Carter was a realist if nothing else. She realized just how much having the guidance of people who actually knew what they were doing would cut from any potential development of their own space-capable ships let alone space capable weapons systems. When the Colonel suddenly frowned, though, Sam felt a chill run up her spine. She shot an imploring look at her C.O., silently begging him not to say something offensive.

 

“You still can't even do that,” Jack said forlornly. “Not with things the way they stand right now.”

 

“What are you talking about, Sir?” Sam said in a near panic. “She just said she would. You can't think she'd just go back on her word from a few minutes of knowing her!”

 

“He's right,” the Admiral said with a confirming nod. “As it stands any one nation gaining the technology we possess by any interference on our part would be a violation of the Prime Directive.”

 

“But you said...,” Sam started before she found herself cut off by Jack.

 

“It would have to be a global initiative, Carter. We'd have to inform the rest of the world Governments about the Stargate program. She cannot give this to just us, no matter how much she may want to,” he said looking from Carter than to the Admiral. “And you do too, don't you?”

 

“Very much so, Colonel. Earth is my home, where I grew up. Even if it's not quite the same Earth as my childhood,” she said, that sly smile creeping across her face once more. “That's not to say there aren't things we can do without causing too much of a stir if it is handled properly. Certain technologies can be traded outright without too many concerns about violations of the Prime Directive. Medical advances that we've made, agriculture, computer sciences. There are many smaller things we can hand off safely if it is handled properly.”

 

“Which again means everyone would have to have access,” Carter said as her shoulders slumped in defeat.

 

“True,” the Admiral said with a shrug. “But I'm confident that you have some creative folks that can disguise the origins as extraterrestrial and present it as a scientific or engineering breakthrough that is being released by a new company, perhaps.”

 

Jack nodded in agreement and Sam had to bite her lip to keep from laughing at the pout he was nonetheless displaying as he muttered, “Still not the same as big honkin' space guns.”

 

“All in due time, Colonel. All in due time,” Admiral Summers said with an understanding nod. A chime from the door rang out at the same time as her com badge. She gave a quick, "Enter," before tapping her comm. badge.

 

"Valkris to Ghost Thorn..."

 

 

 

 

 


	17. Seventeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always many thanks to my Beta, Chadmaako, and my brainstorming partner, MeJA. You are both wonderful friends and partners in my journey as an author.
> 
> This chapter is short, barely 1100 words. Still I hope you will see why I felt it had to stand on its own and enjoy it for what it is.

Giles walked through the doors that his guide had led him to and found himself in a large open room. Immediately he started to catalog the number of similarities, and differences, that the room held to pubs of his native England. The walls all had the appearance of wood, the fine dark grain running about in patterns both orderly and chaotic. A bar made of the same dark wood of the wall panels, 'Cherry wood,' Giles mentally cataloged, ran the length of one portion of the room. Several shelves filled with glass bottles containing liquids of such a wide variety of shades and hues it nearly made his head spin covered the wall behind the bar. Where the shelves weren't, a large gleaming mirror hung; golden characters etched in it proclaiming 'USS Ghost Thorn, NCC 8347-B'.

 

It took Giles only a fraction of a moment to notice the large windows in the wall opposite the mirror. Blackness accentuated by specks of light that could only be stars lay beyond the thick, clear viewports. Seeing that darkness that lay on just the side of the hull of the ship sent a swirl of emotions through the Watcher. Ruthlessly he pushed them down, fearing what would become of him if he dealt with them in the then and now.

 

“You shouldn't bury how it makes you feel,” the woman's melodic voice came, carrying with it a mild amusement as she stepped behind the bar. “I know that every time I look out at it I cannot help but feel a wonder and excitement beyond nearly anything else. What is out there? Who is out there? What next great discovery awaits humanity as it reaches for the stars and beyond?”

 

Giles nodded slightly before turning away from the windows to follow the woman to the bar. Taking her nod towards one of the stools as an invitation, he found himself a seat before speaking. “True enough, there is a wonder and certain childish glee I feel every time I am again confronted with the miracle that is this ship. There is also a cold thrumming fear that comes quickly on its heels.”

 

The woman gave him a sympathetic smile as she took down a bottle that held a thick blue liquid in its crystalline form. “Fear is a natural reaction to the unknown. The question isn't whether you feel fear but what you do in the face of it. Considering what you chose as your profession these last several years, I think you have acquitted yourself quite well.”

 

The woman lifted a tumbler from under the bar and poured a two finger measure of the blue liquid into it before sliding it gently before him. Ignoring the offered drink for the moment, Giles instead focused once more upon the most peculiar woman that had led him to this most peculiar pub. “And what would you know of my profession? You look too mature to be one of the children's classmates and you do not resemble any of the adults that I knew to be in the know of Sunnydale's nightlife.”

 

“No,” the woman said with a quick shake of her head. “I'm not one of your students. Nor am I one of the former residents of your town that now serve aboard this ship. I'm not human, never have been to tell you the truth. Though I have enjoyed their company many times through my long life.”

 

Giles felt himself shift without intent at her declaration of being non-human. He saw no threat from her and had the distinct feeling that the only way she would ever be a threat to him would be if he offered the same in kind. Still, long years of training and indoctrination could not be shaken off so easily even if in his own conscious thoughts he knew that most of what the Council believed were nonsense. “If you are not one of the townspeople or children, then who or what are you?”

 

“My name is Guinan and I am a listener. Or at least, that is what my people always viewed themselves as. I was a bit of a rebel, though and often sought to inject myself directly into the events of the younger races,” Guinan said with a small laugh. “I just couldn't imagine letting such wonderful lives go by without seeing them up close. So many wonderful people whose lives would change so much or so little, yet they meant more to me than the approval of my family. I actually hid on Earth for quite some time and was able to see so much of your history unfold personally. I'd not trade those years for anything.”

 

The joy that Giles heard in her voice was both wondrous and slightly unsettling. He could tell that she had lived her life how she had chosen and damned all to the rules of her elders without a care. He had done much the same in his own youth and it had led to a disastrous end. So hearing the joy she had in recounting her own rebellious youth left him feeling slightly jealous.

 

“So you are what, a demon? An angel of some kind?”

 

“No, nothing so biblical I'm afraid,” Guinan said with a chuckle and another shake of her head. “You would call my people extraterrestrials or aliens if you prefer the more plain way of speaking.” For a moment a flash of regret and sadness passed through Guinan's eyes that Giles almost missed.

 

“You lost someone, many someones,” he said as he reached out and gently covered her coffee colored hand with his own pale one.

 

“Yes,” she said simply, patting his hand with her own free one. “My race, they were nearly wiped out by a vile and evil species known as the Borg. That, however, has little to do with why I am here and yet everything,” she said. “Even being one of the rebels in a species of extremely long-lived listeners I'm unusual. Unique, you could say of me even. When my people were attacked by the Borg we fled our home planet and were eventually taken in by the Federation as refugees. During my time on one of the refugee ships, we encountered a cosmic phenomenon known as the Nexus.”

 

Giles nearly fell off his stool, his face drawing white as his eyes widened. “Ah, you have heard of it then,” Guinan said. “It's everything you have likely heard of and nothing at all like what you were told. It is a wonder so pure and beautiful as to destroy all other concepts of perfection beneath its glory and a nightmare so terrible that I wish I could forget it.”

 

“You entered it,” Giles said, feeling his breathing shorten as he looked upon this woman that became more and more a mystery with every passing moment. “You entered the Nexus and somehow not only survived it but came back out of it.”

 

“Yes and no,” Guinan said with another small smile that seemed so sad to Giles that he wanted to do whatever he could to remove it from her lips and replace it with genuine mirth. “I survived it, yes, but not all of me left the Nexus. Part of me remained behind, eternally bound outside of all reality.”

 

“You're the part that stayed behind,” Giles said without hesitation but with complete disbelief in his voice.

 

Guinan nodded as she said, “Yes, trapped beyond the edge of reality. Able to watch, to listen, but never again able to interact with the lives that had brought so much joy to mine. All the while, watching as the memory of the Nexus ripped and pulled at so many others that they nearly destroyed existence just for a chance to re-enter paradise.”

 

“You make it sound like heaven,” Giles said as he examined the woman. “The texts that the Watchers Council has on the Nexus say it is a joining point of all realities but nothing about it hints that it is anything so... so...”

 

“Divine,” Guinan offered. “It is, at least to those that remain within it. For those that only get but a taste or are pulled from it...”

 

“Living hell, I'd imagine,” Giles said with a nod of understanding. “It would be like experiencing a Queens Ball only to be thrown out into the streets a poor and dirty beggar.”

 

“Worse, much worse but essentially, yes,” Guinan confirmed. “I myself was never one to sit back and enjoy perfection, though. So even the part of me that remained behind didn't sink into the peace the Nexus offers. From there, I've been able to watch so many lives come and go but never been able to do anything to help them, not even offer them the advice that I had for them.”

 

Giles finally reached down and picked up the tumbler of blue liquid, carefully rolling the liquid around the edges of the glass before lifting it to take a taste. He suddenly paused, lowering the glass back down but not setting it back on the bar as he looked at Guinan carefully. “And yet, here you are. Something is different this time. For some reason, you can interfere or at least give the advice you have. So what is different this time?”

 

“The difference is that I never have and never will exist in this dimension. My people are fantasy, fiction, here in this reality. So I am free to come, and meddle, if but for a short time,” Guinan said to him, her eyes boring into his as if she was waiting for him to pick up on something else.

 

After a moment's thought, Giles felt a sick realization run through him as he looked back at the woman. “It was you. The ship, the children, my Slayer,” he said as his voice started to rise with each syllable. “You are the reason that they are changed the way they are!” He was practically shouting at the end, not even aware he had stood up completely from his stool.

 

“I am,” she said without trying to deny or prevaricate. It was a simple acceptance of his accusation; so calmly given that it made Giles pause.

 

“Why,” he demanded, trying to reign in the rage he felt stirring just beneath his skin. The rage that implored him to tap into those dark energies he had learned to harness so long ago in his youthful arrogance.

 

“To save your Slayer from my own fate.”

 

Giles felt the wind rush out of him as he sat back down hard. Silence hung over the both of them for several minutes before Giles broke it by picking up the tumbler of blue liquid and downing the two fingers worth in a single swallow, slamming the glass back down on the bar upside down. His eyes hard, fearful, and filled with a righteous fury that few had seen met Guinan's calm accepting gaze.

 

“Tell me everything.”

 

 


End file.
